Darker Path
by Miss Maia
Summary: The 74th Hunger Games is over, but now Katniss and Peeta have a different battle to fight. Recruited to the lascivious business of Escort Victors, they have to face an entire new set of fears and challenges. What seemed a place for the hopeless could develop into something major as other Victors have plans for Peeta, Katniss … and Panem. Adult Content.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This universe is set after Katniss and Peeta's first Hunger Games—until there, everything is canon. We start the story somewhere after the Victor Tour, and I'll fill in the necessary blanks. From there, the universe is AU but the personalities are canon (with necessary OOC touches). There are Original Characters in the story, though none of them are the main characters. If you have any doubts reading the fic, feel free to send me a PM or leave a comment.

I also should warn you that this is not a happy/humor story. I love to write humor, but this is not the place for it. This fic is … well, dark. We'll have touching moments, but the leading feeling will be angst. Rated M for Violence, Adult Content, Drugs and Language.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the _Hunger Games_ trilogy; this is just an attempt at fun by playing with someone else's toys.

**Summary: **The 74th Hunger Games is over, but now Katniss and Peeta have a different battle to fight. Recruited to the lascivious business of Escort Victors, they have to face an entire new set of fears and challenges. When all your dreams are dead, you know you are right for this business. A perfect place for hopeless Victors; a completely new kind of arena. Adult Content.

* * *

**Darker Path**

**Chapter One**

He uttered the vows with such ease that one could say it was rehearsed. His eyes were clear and sure as if he wasn't feeling a deadly vine suffocating his heart at each word. It sounded like the phrases were forged deep within his heart and soul, carrying nothing more than the truth. Who could really tell? Peeta Mellark was always an excellent liar.

Katniss, on the other hand, was never good with words. Repeating the vow monologue was pure torture as she held Peeta's hand so tightly his palm went numb. Her jaw was tense and moved like a rusted engine as she promised eternal love and commitment. The guests at the party were ready to buy anything she said and were convinced; Peeta tried really hard, but nothing could shake the fear from her eyes as he kissed her lips, sealing their union. She didn't even close them for their first kiss as Mr. and Mrs. Mellark. The crowd cheered anyway.

After all, it was the event of the year.

All the Capitol's magnates and socialites were present, sharing tears and boastful stories of their futile lives, concerned more with appearing in the pictures rather than the young couple exchanging fake pleasantries. If they were paying a little bit more attention to the Mellarks instead of themselves, they would have seen that under the heavy make-up Katniss suffered. However, it would be a real challenge to discern what went on behind Peeta's almost genuine smile—part of him was truly happy despite the circumstances.

He had dreamed about it. Peeta Mellark wanted to add his last name to Katniss' since he was six years old. The Capitol had taken a child's innocent dream and transformed it into a nightmarish blur of deceiving smiles and fake laughs. His mind was a torment because he knew Katniss was being forced to marry him. She declared eternal love from fear, not from her heart. She was a disturbing Capitol's puppet and the woman of his life at the same time. Her mind was in a silent chaos, and he was the face of her nightmare. How could he enjoy his dream this way?

At one of the countless VIP tables on the mezzanine, Finnick Odair took a sip of his black tea. He would work tonight and—he knew from experience—drinking would not go well with this client. He grimaced as the bitter beverage filled his mouth; he loved sugar, but again, his job asked for specific preparations. This client loved the bitter taste his tongue would acquire.

"So …" He placed the cup back on the table, passing a hand through his shiny, copper-colored hair, fighting the urge to pop a sugar cube into his mouth. "Who is going to kindly break the news to our lovely couple?"

The woman sitting next to him flashed her honey eyes, faking a kind smile under the rough, dark lipstick she wore. "You know who," she declared in a deep voice, gulping down her champagne. Her client that night didn't care about it; in fact, he cherished when she was in a light-minded state.

"Yeah. I know." Finnick offered her a lopsided smile, turning his eyes back to Katniss and Peeta, who greeted endless lines of anonymous guests. "I'm just checking that you do."

"I already know Twelve, anyway," the woman answered. She was eight years older than him, but it only showed when she was free to express all the sadness her eyes carried. Otherwise, covered with thick layers of make-up, one could barely say she was older than Finnick.

"That's the source of my concerns." Finnick finished his tea in just one gulp, coughing lightly when he rose from his chair. "Well, it's almost ten o'clock. I need to go."

When she didn't react at his comment, he nudged her elbow to call her attention. "I said it's almost ten o'clock," he repeated.

"He likes it when I'm late. Don't worry." She didn't spare a second glance at him. Frowning, Finnick adjusted his bright-yellow tuxedo and headed for one of the saloon's exits.

Another night, another job. That was what their lives had become.

* * *

The click of the wooden door closing behind her made a shiver run down her back. Katniss didn't turn around to look at Peeta, instead surveying the luxurious bedroom they were assigned to spend their first night together.

The bed was ridiculously huge, and she regretfully wondered if there was enough space for them to not even touch and sleep comfortably. Though that was not the idea of a first night together, was it?

After their Hunger Games, they practically didn't speak. Katniss knew she had hurt Peeta's feelings and was so afraid even to look at him to start an apology, so she did was she was best at; she kept to herself. Peeta, totally to the contrary, mourned the days he spent away from her. He passed through all the stages of grieving: first, he denied that Katniss was just playing a role to survive during their Games, wanting to believe she indeed had feelings for him. Denial gave away to concern, and it morphed to despair and depression. After weeks without leaving his room, he emerged one day with bloody knuckles, surrendering to anger. Before he could meet her again in the Victory Tour, anger transformed into indifference, and when he thought he'd finally live normally again, indifference blossomed into raw, fresh and crushing fear. He was afraid he would lose her. Afraid that the Capitol had changed him and made him a different man. In the end, he returned to his initial state: unrequited love.

During their Tour, they were advised to wear their masks again. Well, Katniss was. Because Peeta was being sincere when he touched her on that snowy porch in the cold morning, he had missed her so much. None of them could explain what had happened during the Tour, but the result was that they were bonding again. Maybe they had discovered that nobody else could understand their lives. Only Victors knew how it was to appear to have everything and suffer from the inside, with a gun pointed at their nape, ready to shoot at the smallest mistake. It was actually worse. The gun pointed to the head of their beloved ones.

They slept together during the Tour, innocent, cold nights of shared nightmares and tears. Katniss felt safe with Peeta—she couldn't deny that.

It was just halfway through the Victory Tour that they were told about their marriage, which already had a settled date. Peeta's world shattered because he saw the desperation in Katniss' eyes. He saw how angry she was with the fact that they tried to control her life and how much Haymitch had to explain to them that if they didn't do it, their families would pay. It was the mention of Primrose's name that made Katniss stop arguing. She never slept in his bed again.

He couldn't smile at the news he was going to marry Katniss Everdeen. He just saw her again for the ceremony rehearsals, and tonight they were expected to have sex.

Katniss crossed the room with unstable steps, kicking off her heels before disappearing in the bathroom. Peeta tossed the room's card on the nightstand and lay on the bed, still fully clothed in his gray suit. He knew she would lock the bathroom door.

Taking out her intricate hairstyle with trembling hands, Katniss looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn't sure who the girl in the reflection was; it definitely didn't look like her. Stifling crackling sobs, she washed away the make-up that took hours for her prep-team to finish. She wanted to at least see her mother and sister, but Haymitch had been clear that letting them come had been already a huge step. They were probably in a train headed to Twelve by now. Katniss almost missed the pair of glassy, blue eyes between the crowd, both her mother and sister smiling at her. Prim's smile was fresh and young, but her mother knew better—she knew her daughter was nothing but a piece in their game now.

She didn't regret when the dress tore in her rush to take it off. _Cinna won't mind_, she thought. He wouldn't care if she burnt the material as long as it made her feel better. The forceful spray of the shower helped her limbs to relax, the hot water massaging her olive skin. She saw the make-up trail whirling down the drain, and for a moment, she felt sick. She had barely eaten during the day and had been up since five in the morning. Shaking her head, she turned the water cold to try to think straight.

When Katniss finally stepped into the room, she wore the only garment she could find in there: red, silky pajamas that barely covered her breasts and thighs. The tiredness was overwhelming her, and she didn't even care if those shorts left little to Peeta's imagination. For a reason she couldn't quite place, she knew he wouldn't do anything against her will even if she was naked.

Peeta was dozing off on the bed, already losing his battle against his heavy eyelids. He had changed into flannel pants and a t-shirt—much more suitable clothing than Katniss'. There were a couple of sandwiches on the nightstand, neatly cut and arranged. Seeing those, she smiled genuinely for the first time all night. He must have ordered them from room service or just pushed the right button on the intricate panel. Either way, he was taking care of her, knowing she would be hungry.

She finished her second cheese sandwich when Peeta stirred, blinking sleepily to see her.

"Hey. How is—oh." He stopped mid-sentence, his sleepy eyes widening and his mouth suddenly dry.

Katniss noticed how his eyes darted between her exposed legs and hardened nipples under her stupid, silky blouse. It was a bit cold.

Swallowing the last bite, she ignored his expression completely. "You can use the bathroom, if you want," she said deadpan. Rising from her chair, she went to the table to retrieve a bottle of water that emerged from it after pressing a bottom on the side panel. She could almost feel his gaze focusing on her butt as she gulped the water.

"Right," Peeta mumbled while heading to the bathroom. He rested most of his weight on his good leg, dragging the prosthetic, hoping to cover his already firm erection. He was seventeen, after all.

The door closed with a crack. He rested his forehead against the wall, slipping a hand inside his pants. He swore quietly of frustration and relief as he pulled them down, balancing himself with the other hand. His curse was a bit louder as he grabbed his full member to touch himself; setting an aleatory program for the shower, he stepped under the water, pumping himself faster at the thought of Katniss' peaked nipples. When he was close to his climax, her face flooded his mind with the same sad, devastated expression she demonstrated after he had kissed her at the altar. He came with a strangled cry, the pleasure not being enough to cover the agony that melted with his tears.

He wasn't sure if Katniss was sleeping when he laid in bed, her small frame curled up on the other side. Peeta pushed the blankets over his head, trying to pretend this entire day was a dream.

He fell asleep with the rocking sound of Katniss' muffled sobs.

* * *

District Four had a natural beauty that few of the others districts could share. Situated on the West Coast of Panem, a long and thin district that lived from the fruits the sea offered. It was no surprise when Katniss and Peeta were told that their honeymoon photo sessions would be shot there.

The week was endless for both of them; though it was obvious Katniss was the one suffering the most. She could handle waking up with the sun, so the photographers would find the perfect lightening, but she definitely had problems with smiling. In every photo she was supposed to smile, hold Peeta's hand, lie on his chest, kiss him, smile again; and all she really wanted to do was run away and hide in the deepest hole she could find. After the second day, the photograph crew decided profile photos would work better for her.

Katniss wanted to strangle Peeta for being so fucking perfect in every one of the photos. His smile was symmetric, white and charming; a stark contrast to her immutable frowning. The only photo his smirk faltered was when they were asked to swim. Maybe her best photo was when she was trying not to laugh at Peeta's desperate, widened eyes as the photographer instructed him to swim with her in the deeper water.

She held his hand the entire time they were with the water level above his chest.

During that first week in Four, when they got back to their room after an extremely tiring day, they always headed directly to bed and physically ignored each other. Katniss was still digesting everything, and Peeta was just relieved she said he could sleep beside her and not on the floor.

Katniss didn't know why, but during their first night together after the photo crew was gone, she had searched for Peeta's hand under the blanket. But she did and grasped to it as if they were still in the arena. No words were spoken; he accepted her touch and pulled her close, inhaling the honey-scented shampoo she wore. The hug had the same intensity of her tight grasp, the same desperation and the same need.

It was the first night she felt rested in months.

* * *

It took a few weeks, but they got used to their new life in Twelve. Peeta's family had moved back to the bakery, since now they had the right only for one house in the Victor's Village. With Peeta's eldest brother married, the small room on the bakery's second floor would accommodate just one of the Mellark boys, giving him more space than he was used to having. Even with Peeta's help, his father still wanted to bake, and the trips between the Village and the town were tiring for a man that soon would be fifty. Though the main reason why Mr. Mellark was back in the bakery was the fact that his wife wouldn't hear a word about moving into the same roof as Katniss' mother.

Sharing a house with Primrose and her mother made Katniss accept her marriage a little better. When she was overwhelmed by the newness of it, she would engage in a normal routine, like dancing with Prim in the living room, so she wouldn't lose her mind. Peeta noticed it, relieved to see that Katniss was starting to smile again. He almost had the audacity to dream about a day she would actually love him back.

Something started that night in Four, growing between them during small, yet meaningful gestures. They once again slept together, holding each other when the nightmares woke them up. There were no Capitol guards at the door making sure they were sustaining an image. They were sharing a room by simple choice—though Katniss kept telling herself it was convenience. Who knew about the guards? They could be anywhere.

The woods were still the place Katniss went to think, meditate, and kill things, which helped her relax. Her necessity to hunt didn't exist anymore, but the need to run for her sacred place was bigger than ever. Her mind was an incoherent mix of doubts, guilt, and most of all, anger. The anger was clear and directed at the Capitol, which bluntly changed her hard but calm life into a manipulated show. She wasn't sure why she felt so guilty, but it had to be because of Peeta. It was never easy for her to fully figure out her feelings for him. She did lie to him during the Games—or at least part of it—but she couldn't tell now if she was lying to herself when she kept saying she didn't have feelings for him. Because the way he sometimes looked at her, how his browns frowned in concentration while he painted, or how he carefully kneaded the dough on their kitchen counter made something new stir inside her. Something that possessed her heart in a fury, making her blush and look away from him, from his muscles, his face and—that happened last week—his butt.

Instead of trying to figure out what that myriad of sensations was, she ran for the woods to get lost in her routine. Eventually, she'd have to face why her heart kept accelerating every night when Peeta lay next to her, warming her body in a tight embrace.

Her mother hadn't said a word about her marriage when they got back from Four. She had just smiled and asked if it would be okay for her and Prim to live with the couple, at which Katniss frowned by the stupidity of the question and Peeta jokily said he'd be crazy if he had to live with Katniss by himself. Both Mrs. Everdeen and the new Mrs. Mellark felt the hint of truth behind his playful response. Katniss was fine with her mother's lack of interest in her love life—she wouldn't know how to respond, anyway. That was why Katniss was surprised when her mother joined her to clean a fresh kill, touching directly on the subject.

"How is your life with Peeta, Katniss?" she asked almost casually, only flickering a little with her knife while skinning the small rabbit. "It's been a month. Is everything all right?"

Peeta was at the bakery and Prim was at school. Katniss slowly put her own knife down and grabbed a cloth to clean her bloody hands.

"We're fine." Katniss was being careful; she knew what could happen if anyone even thought that she was not living the happily ever after dream with Peeta. She had an image to sustain.

They continued their work in silence until her mother found the courage to ask what she desperately wanted to hear from her daughter.

"Are you happy?" Mrs. Everdeen had known happiness in her life, and honestly wanted her daughter to live it someday too.

Katniss didn't have the courage to smile, concentrating on the skinless rabbit she was disemboweling.

"Yes, Mother." She could feel Snow's snake eyes on her, waiting for a small slip to spill his venom. She wouldn't give him this pleasure; she'd keep up the show.

"Good." Her mother's smile was pale with a knowing hue that tugged Katniss' heart.

She sighed deeply; happiness was never an option for her.

* * *

She woke up earlier that day, feeling the side of the bed still lightly warm from Peeta's body. Blinking sleepily, she adjusted to the small light entering from the rising sun outside the window. Swinging her legs off the bed, Katniss yawned and rubbed her eyes, feeling her dry throat. She headed toward the bathroom but stopped before her hand reached the doorknob.

The hot shower stream flowed from the ajar bathroom door. Katniss was so sleepy that she hadn't noticed that Peeta was taking a shower. However, it wasn't this information that made Katniss bite her lips and hold her arms against her chest. Along with the vapors, quiet moans also leaked from the small room. Katniss' heart accelerated of its own accord, vibrating her entire body.

A wave of curiosity ran from her neck to her toes. Her tongue darted out her mouth to wet her chapped lips. Swallowing hard, she pushed the door ever so slightly, opening it just enough for her slim body to snake inside the steamy bathroom. She had to blink a few times inside the hot, tiled room to try to see anything.

Peeta had one hand firmly palmed against the shower wall, his fingers curling over the white tiles. His knuckles were white, showing the strength he was applying to keep his balance. His blond hair was dark under the water, his eyes fluttering in a steady motion. He was facing the tap, so his side was to her. It gave Katniss an excellent view of his manhood as he continued to touch himself.

Katniss' eyes widened in a mix of surprise and reinforced curiosity. She was stuck in place, unsure if she should run or watch. Unmoving, she chose the latter.

Peeta was unaware of her presence, too focused on the arousal possessing his body at each hard stroke. He was lost in his own world where Katniss didn't just hug him back in the night but offered herself completely to him, fulfilling all the desires he craved. He tried not to think that it may never happen and continued to wish for and imagine the day Katniss would thoroughly be his wife. Until then, his hand would have to do. At least they hadn't chopped it off along with his leg.

He bit his lip to stifle the moan building deep in his lungs, and if Katniss wasn't so close to him, she wouldn't have heard it. Well, she had. The sound penetrated her body with an unfamiliar need. Need coiled in her stomach and started to descend lower and lower, a faint throbbing between her legs. She liked that.

He would have finished without knowing she was there, lost in his fantasy, but when he grunted with the feeling of his balls tightening with his upcoming relief, Katniss couldn't suppress her own gasp of surprise and mild want. Peeta's head turned so fast in her direction that his wet hair splashed water over the curtain. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, trying to absorb in the image.

Katniss loose braid sparkled with tiny drops of steam, showing she had been in the bathroom for a while; she hadn't just walked in accidentally. His oversized shirt she wore was marked by her hard nipples, and the room was far from being cold. The way her legs were forcefully shut made her appear unsteady, and she kept moving her thighs together unconsciously. Instead of finding words, Peeta turned his back to her, both of his hands trying to cover his groin. They were both breathing heavily with a repressed need weighing every thought.

"Don't." Her voice was hoarse from sleep and desire, even though she still couldn't quite name the last one. Peeta craned his neck in her direction, not understanding what she meant by that. Did she want him to stop touching himself? Did she want him—

Her next words dissolved all his doubts.

"Don't stop." Her voice was quieter than before, and her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she barely recognized her own voice.

She wanted to watch him; she wanted to see if what she was feeling was real.

God, that felt real.

His body didn't let him think of a reply, begging to continue his ministrations. Locking his red eyes with her gray glance, Peeta rested one of his hands on the wall again and gripped the other around his still hard erection. Katniss looked surprised, biting her lips and darting her eyes between Peeta's groin and face. His penis twitched under her stare, making his eyes close for a moment.

Katniss' face flushed while she clenched the sink, needing to support her wobbling legs. Under the newness of arousal, she was confused. Confused by her feelings for him because in that moment staying with Peeta seemed the right thing to do, not just some imposition from the Capitol. Did she want him because of her feelings or for the necessity to protect Prim and her mother? Did she want him after all? Her throbbing clit seemed to have its own opinion.

She watched as his face writhe in what looked like a painful expression, morphing into pleasure a second later. Along with a guttural, unrepressed cry that fled his gritted-teeth, her name echoed in the bathroom as he came with a force he hadn't felt for a long time.

Her breathing was shallow and irregular when Peeta could finally open his eyes. He felt dizzy from his orgasm, a small smile tugging his lips while he shook his head under the continuous flow of water. Her grip didn't falter on the marble sink, only growing stronger when Peeta stepped out the shower, dripping hot water. He clumsily wrapped himself in a blue towel that matched the hue of his eyes.

"Katniss," he said in a throaty tone, outstretching his hand for her. She looked at her toes, ashamed of the situation. _You're his wife_, she thought as another blush crept her neck and cheeks. "I—" She didn't let him continue.

"I need to think," she said barely audible, rushing back to the room to collect some brown pants and her father's old jacket. Her hunting boots were in the living room, and she was relieved to see that neither her mother nor Prim were awake yet.

Peeta watched her disappear under the Victor's Village gate from the bedroom window. The smile was still plastered on his face, though he was unsure of what this morning had turned into.

Katniss crawled under the fence with less grace than she normally did. Her legs were still wobbling a little and her mind was in an endless race of thoughts. She had to stop twice in her tracks to remind herself that what happened in the bathroom wasn't a dream. She had indeed watched Peeta masturbate _and _had enjoyed it. Hell, she had asked him to keep doing it! Katniss didn't know if all of that was required for playing her role for the Capitol, and she wasn't sure if what she was feeling was to deceive Snow or had blossomed from her heart. Did she love Peeta?

She kicked a stone on her way, trying to get rid of the doubts. Why did it matter, anyway? She would have to stay with him to keep her family alive. If she someday developed real feelings, it would just make everything easier.

The raw desire she felt with Peeta dissipated as she entered the woods, hearing the spring's sounds and sensing the light, early breeze. She could live here; she could live in the woods forever, away from the Capitol, laws, Peeta … she could be free.

Collecting her favorite bow from a hollow tree, she headed for a better place to hunt. She _needed_ to kill something today to distract her attention from the discreet wetness in her panties.

She jolted at the soft sound of footsteps, biting her lips and swearing quietly. Oh, damn it. It was Sunday.

She had barely seen Gale since she was back in Twelve. Aside from rushed greetings and whispered excuses, they hadn't shared anything. Katniss knew that it would be horrible for her image with Peeta to be seen hanging out with another man. Especially a man as handsome as Gale.

"Nice to see you away from the cameras, Catnip." His voice was just as soft as his steps, his dark-gray eyes shining with sympathy and … longing? Not just that. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, marking his tired face with exhaustion. Gale worked six days a week and hunted on the only day he had to rest. He refused to accept any of Katniss' offers of help, too wrapped in his pride. Still, he was Gale, her friend and confident for years.

"Gale," she answered with a shy smile. They were in the woods, hunting on a Sunday morning. They shared that same life for years. Why now did everything feel so out of place?

"How are you?"

She reflexively tensed when he approached her, his massive body making her feel ever smaller. She nodded and looked from one side to the other. Even in the deep of the woods, she still felt monitored. He felt her tension and his jaw visibly contracted. Katniss raised an eyebrow at him, recognizing his signs of anger.

"They shouldn't have done that," he said with his eyes cast on the ground, crushing the bags of greens tied on his belt.

"Done what?"

"Forced you like this." He met her eyes and his teeth gritted as the words escaped him. "They shouldn't have forced you into marrying him."

Coldness snuck itself around Katniss' heart. She wasn't ready to discuss it with anyone, let alone Gale. She just nodded; she had come to the woods to clear her mind, and this conversation wasn't helping.

"Peeta is a good person," she said calmly, receiving an ironic snort as response.

"Oh, I'm sure he is." Gale forced another rough laugh. "I bet he's not having any trouble fulfilling his husbandly duties."

Her eyes turned to stone as Gale's comment stirred something inside her that burst out as hurt and anger. Who was he to judge her? He didn't know half of the shit she had been through or what exactly was at risk if she failed to play along the Capitol's rules. Though that wasn't the main problem, was it? What really made her cross the distance between her slim form and Gale's broad shoulders was his assumption of Peeta. What made her small hand close into a fist and hit his prominent cheekbone was his idea of Peeta being responsible for this. Gale didn't know Peeta. He didn't know how hard it was being for them, how difficult their dilemma was or what happened in the darkness of their room. Gale never saw them both crying their hearts out in the corner of a guarded room in the Capitol. Neither did he know how Peeta protected and respected Katniss. He also didn't know that, if it wasn't for Peeta, she would probably be dead by now.

"Do you really think I'm just a girl he fucks?" The words were bitter on her tongue.

Still shocked with her punch, Gale just stared at her, agape.

"Do you really think that's how he sees me? You have no idea of what you're talking about!"

Gale was silent as he watched the once shy and recluse girl, biting the phrases at him with an anger he had never seen before. That wasn't the same Katniss that volunteered for Prim.

"I'm not just a girl." She fought to keep the trace of tears away from her voice, pronouncing the words harshly. "I'm his _wife_."

She turned her back to him, not wanting to stare into those shocked eyes for another second. Her heart pounded in her ribcage for the second time in the day, and all she wanted now was to feel secure under a tight embrace.

Peeta's tight embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The girl was taller. She had already lived the growth spurt her brother would still pass through. Her dark hair shimmered in a golden hue under the summer sun. Peeta sighed proudly at the sight of her big smile, a copy of his own. Her eyes were a vivid azure that matched the blue stain on her brother's cheek. She had smudged him with her paintbrush, leaving blue marks from his neck to his smiling face. He playfully chased her in the garden, hoping to smear her olive skin with the ink in his hands. His eyes weren't like Peeta's, but his blond curls were certainly a mark of his DNA. The boy's shoulders were getting broader at each year, and soon he would be taller than his sister.

"Peeta," the voice called softly, and he looked away from the teasing siblings to search for the owner of it. "Peeta," it called again, and the garden, the summer sun and—worse—the kids started to disappear.

"Peeta," Katniss repeated, this time lightly rubbing his shoulder.

She had been watching him sleep for the last hour, the events of the day before still playing in her mind. She had come back from the woods wanting to find Peeta, but he had already left to spend the day at the bakery. Her mother noticed her restlessness, but Katniss ignored it, focusing her mind in anything she could do in the house. After an afternoon of cleaning the rooms, she couldn't wait until Peeta came back, falling asleep in her jacket, sitting on the bed to wait for him. She woke up before the sun, her jacket neatly folded on the nightstand and Peeta's body spooned next to her. She turned to face him, watching as the growing light illuminated him better as the time passed. His eyes fluttered, and he smiled, proof he was having a good dream. She waited until his smile faded to wake him up, wanting to talk, and even more than that, to touch him.

"Mmm?" Peeta mumbled sleepily, blinking his eyes to find the gray, wide-awake pair looking back at him. Her hair was loose and messy, almost covering her shy smile. She was beautiful.

"Good morning." She retracted her hands to herself, not even meeting his eyes to speak. Peeta ran a finger from her chin to her jaw, and that small gesture made her shiver.

"Morning. You look beautiful," he said in a husky voice, the smile coming back to his features.

Katniss bit her lips and risked a glance at him. Peeta frowned in mild appreciation, trying to decipher what was passing through her mind. He had been late coming back from the bakery, and they didn't have the chance to talk after his "solo presentation" in the shower the morning before.

She rubbed her eyes but not from tiredness. With everything that happened yesterday—from watching Peeta to Gale's comments—she couldn't stop thinking about the physical aspect of her marriage. She knew Peeta wished for more and that she owed him somehow. At the same time she felt like a Capitol's creation just to want this, like it wasn't from her heart. Maybe it wasn't from her heart and the blame was exclusively on her hormones, but nevertheless, everything was very confusing in her mind.

Katniss was known to act on impulse in confused moments.

Under the blankets, she reached for his hand, squeezing tightly in a quick warning before searching for his lips with her own. She swallowed Peeta's gasp of surprise and clawed his palm, shutting her eyes not to see his reaction. She felt it; as soon as the initial shock passed, Peeta responded to the kiss eagerly, his mind still processing the information his body had already sunk in. Katniss was kissing him, by her own free will. No cameras, no guards. Just them.

He kissed her until they were both breathless, barely letting her catch a breath. He was afraid that if he let her do it, she would change her mind.

Katniss' thoughts were a dark storm since yesterday, but now, as her body was molding to Peeta's at each new touch, her mind was thankfully blank. Her doubts and insecurities still existed but were melting away as the heat was growing inside her, shamelessly pooling on her core.

Peeta finally broke the kiss and rested his sweaty forehead against Katniss'. They both panted; the bedroom was quiet aside from their heavy breaths. The sunlight started to invade the room, but it was sure that both Katniss' mother and Prim were asleep.

He swallowed hard, adjusting himself next to her, cupping her cheek to stare into her eyes. He wanted to ask, but he was so afraid. This could be a dream, and he would wake up to an empty spot beside him.

"Do you—" He was a man of words, and they failed him. Katniss chimed in, not wanting to talk or discuss anything.

"I'm your wife," she said with fierce, steely eyes, just a hint of dark from her arousal.

His mouth was slightly parted as he nodded. She was his wife.

"I'm your husband." His eyes were lost in her pool of gray as he rested his hand on her hips, pulling her closer. "And I—"

"No words." She hugged his chest strongly, making him huff. Words would lead to thoughts, which would lead to doubts, which would finally lead to fears—or worse, tears.

She felt his chin move over her head as he nodded, running a finger to comb her tangled hair. They were quiet for a minute, their breaths slowing and their hearts coming to a steady pace. When Katniss pulled away from the cozy spot on his collarbone, Peeta dove his head to catch her lips once more. This time the kiss was soft, amorous, making all her muscles relax. Her eyes fluttered close, but not because she didn't want to see him, and yes because she wanted to focus her senses on his touches and not her sight. Her hands moved to his shoulders, palming his chest on their way. Peeta shifted on the bed, turning to his good side and pulling Katniss on top of him. She didn't expect that, landing in a puff over his hips. They broke the kiss to laugh nervously, and maybe for the first time in months they looked like teenagers.

Trying to explore more of his body, she spread her legs to straddle him. They both gasped at the contact. Katniss' heart accelerated at the feeling of Peeta's erection through his boxers, so close to her own heat. Her hand that was lost on his curls made a hesitant move downward to his chest and belly, but she stopped when she touched his navel, his loose shirt giving her space to explore. She looked up at him, a silent question in her eyes. He understood but didn't move. When she opened her mouth to protest, he said, "You do it."

Katniss noticed her hands were shaking when she reached for the hem of his shirt to take it off. She discarded the garment next to the bed, moving her hands back to their previous spot. Peeta's chest was broad, a result from years of heavy work. Downy, golden hairs gathered in a single island in the center. She thread her fingers through them, feeling his heart beating under her palms. Peeta inhaled a sharp breath as she caressed his nipples, making shy, small circles around them.

His grip was firm on her hips, holding her in place and pressing her down to try to alleviate a little of the pressure building in his groin. Watching her exploring him was overwhelming; the sensations her hands caused were going directly to his cock. Her hand stopped again on his navel, verging the edge of his shorts.

She didn't hesitate this time.

Her slim finger pulled the elastic material aside, her nails grasping slightly on his thigh. His fingers tightened in her hips, and she was sure she would have marks later. Her eyes darted up to meet his again, but Peeta had closed them reveling in the feeling of his undergarment being removed, brushing his hard shaft. He lifted his butt and helped her to take it off completely, hurriedly removing it. Katniss let out a controlled breath at the sight of Peeta completely naked under her. He felt it and looked at her, taking in her reaction, how her eyes didn't leave him for a second since his boxers joined his shirt on the floor. Pulling her down for another kiss, he saw how her pupils dilated and the grip of her thighs around him intensified. He moaned at the touch of his bare skin against her pajamas, pushing his hips forward to extend the contact.

Katniss felt her body shift on the bed again. Peeta's arms were under her legs, and he turned them so he would be on top. Instead of what she was expecting, he swung his legs off the bed, moving to a sitting position.

"What are you doing?" she said with more rush than she intended. He smiled at her.

"I just need to"—he pointed to the bathroom—"I'll be right back." Peeta took her hand and pressed a kiss on her palm, teasingly nibbling at her middle finger before getting up. Katniss took a shaky breath as the bathroom door closed behind him, resting her head on the pillow and trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs.

Peeta would kill himself if this gesture would make Katniss change her mind, but he had to do it. First, he needed to get the lube he had in the sink drawer, knowing it would help them with possible technical difficulties. Second, he just _needed _to pee.

She reopened her eyes to find Peeta meeting her for another kiss as he climbed on the bed once more. They both enjoyed the familiar gesture, but their bodies were asking for more than just kisses. Peeta kneeled on the bed next to her, tugging at her white blouse. Katniss understood and raised her arms but did not take it off. Accepting the offer, Peeta pulled the clothing off her body in a slow, cautious manner, revealing each inch of her olive skin in a soft motion. When the garment fell on the floor, Katniss' chest was bare to him. Her first impulse was to cover herself, crossing her arms to protect her small, peaked breasts.

"No," Peeta said, holding both her hands. "You are beautiful. I want to see you."

She nodded, her eyes darting between his groin and his face.

"I," she started hesitantly. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she locked glances with him. He was her husband, damn it. "I want to see you, too."

He frowned in a quick moment of confusion, considering that he was already thoroughly exposed to her. The blush that crept up her chest and dyed her cheeks was what made him understand.

She didn't want just to see him. She wanted to _watch him_. Like in the shower.

A new wave of excitement rushed through his young body, and he needed to take a deep breath. "Like yesterday?"

He was never happier to see her nod.

"Could you … ?" He glanced at her pants, though it was very hard for him to look away from her breasts. Her dark, hard nipples had a hypnotic effect on him. He wanted to know what her full body could do.

"I'll take them off while you do it."

He grunted at her words; did she know how sexy she sounded? Did she know how much on the edge he already was?

Technically, she didn't. She was just painfully aware how much she needed to watch him again, to see and hear him come, and to touch her. She wanted him to touch her.

He sat on the bed, facing her. He folded his good leg and extended his prosthetic. With a deep breath, he finally locked his hand around his arousal, failing to maintain eye contact with Katniss. He wanted to take it slow, start with mild movements, but he desperately needed his release.

This was a dream coming true.

Katniss' mouth was open as she watched him with hungry, curious eyes. His body contracted at each struck, his teeth gritted and his hip arched quickly over the bed to meet his hand's thrusts. Being faithful to her promise, she hooked her thumbs around her pants, lowering them as quickly as she could. The sensation she felt in the bathroom rushed through her body all over again, but now with a renewed force.

"Everything I do," he said between gasps. "Everything, is for you. Is thinking of you, I—_ah …_"

She knew she had asked him not to speak, but his words fed her urge in an uncontrolled manner. His moans drowned his words, and she crawled closer to him, firmly grasping his thigh and nestling her head on the spot where his neck met his shoulder. She could feel his accelerated heart and taste his sweat.

He couldn't hold it anymore, not with her so close to him. With a final, strong thrust, he turned to her to muffle his loud moan into her hair, covering himself with his other hand in an old habit. At each wave he hugged her tighter, pushing his hip over the bed in a synced action.

"Holy shit," she breathed, the undeniable attention in her groin not letting her say more than that. Peeta managed an agreement between gasps, his tight grip on her waist a bit looser.

"I want you to feel that," he whispered to her ear, feeling her skin erupting in goose bumps at the sound of his voice. "Can I touch you?"

She nodded fiercely, pulling apart to look at him. His curls were wet and dark, his chest rising and falling more rapidly at each word he said.

He shifted and helped her lie on her back. When he reached for her breasts, he felt her trembling. "If you don't want, I can stop."

"I do." Using her elbows, she raised a little to meet his eyes. "I do want to."

"This is just us. This is just for us. Do you know that?"

She nodded. She knew.

She wanted.

His hand tried an exploratory touch again, cupping her soft skin. She hissed under his touch, marveled by the softness of his gesture. The calluses of his worker hand guided and directed shivers to her center, and before she could ask him to move further, his other hand found her.

The moan was a mix of surprise and relief; she waited for that touch for so long. Her head pushed on the pillow behind her, and her legs spread wider beyond her will. His middle finger traveled from her apex to her entrance, spreading the wetness around her folds.

When she finally could open her eyes, she saw extreme concentration in his eyes as he stared at her groin. He wore the same look he did when painting: his brow was creased and the tip of his tongue pointed out as if he was searching for the right angle of his future work. She didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he sure was finding it.

Pleasure was coiling in her belly, a deadly snake ready to attack its prey. She had touched herself before but never with this intensity. It always seemed pointless while she did it, and she had never reached climax. The only time she felt really aroused and desired was with Peeta. Why couldn't she notice it before?

Her thoughts didn't have a chance to flow anymore as Peeta's inexperienced hand found her point of pleasure.

"There," she moaned quickly before he could move again. "Focus there—just, just touch there."

"Like this?" His voice turned hoarse again.

"Harder." She bit her lips, trying to muffle the new moan growing in her throat. "Faster …" The moan couldn't be suppressed as he obeyed, sliding longer, harder and faster arcs on her, pushing her to the edge, closer and closer.

His other hand that firmly held her hips moved to her mouth as she moaned loudly in the high peak of her orgasm. They both knew Prim and Katniss' mother's room were in the same house, and if it wasn't for Peeta's quick hand, they would have to face a very awkward breakfast. Though, his hand was also the origin of the situation.

Her body quivered, feeling the waves of relief that rushed through her limp body, leaving her as a boneless heap of flesh on the bed. Peeta's hand brushed the stray curls from her sweaty forehead, and he lay next to her, hugging her close.

They didn't speak. Even Peeta knew this was not a moment for words. They concentrated on catching their breaths and trying to figure out what this all would mean for them.

"Make love to me."

Her words were shy, barely above a whisper, but he stiffened hearing them anyway.

"Katniss—"

"I—I need you."

In the early morning sun drifting in the room from the ajar window, Peeta saw the trace of new tears on her face. He didn't know if they were from the aftermath pleasure or angst.

"I love you." His eyes closed as he said it, because he was afraid of what he could find in her eyes while listening to his declaration.

There was no magical spark or sudden realization of love, no fireworks, no stolen promises, and most of all, no lies. In their bed was a pure, raw and selfless couple. The room was filled with heated sweat, muffled moans, tight grasps, and winded breaths. Peeta offered her all he could. Katniss received it and gave her body to him. An exchange of soul and flesh, and a physical seal to their marriage.

He never felt more completed.

She never felt more loved.

No Capitol could take that away from them.

* * *

Wednesday was a busy day in Town. Most supply trains came in Wednesdays, so it was common sense to spare this day to search for good products in the shops. Katniss' mother was coming back home with meat, wool, a bag of dried fruits and some new shoes for Prim. She was smiling and happy to now be able to afford such item, and wasn't ever concerned to head back home later than the usual when the sun was almost down.

Her smile disappeared as she entered her house, taking in the scene in front of her.

At the kitchen table, Prim talked excitedly and friendly like just someone as happy and innocent as she could do. Who actually made Mrs. Everdeen's smile fade was the guest next to her younger child.

"Mrs. Everdeen." Her voice was soft, calm, like the gentle breeze before the deadly storm. "I'm—"

"I know who you are." Mrs. Everdeen's tone didn't match the guest's; it was cold and unsteady. No one could forget a Hunger Games when obliged to watch it while holding crying one-year-old. She saw a beautiful young woman be transformed into a cold-blooded murderer on live television. She saw those same amber eyes that looked at her right then not even blink as they killed her friend's sister.

She knew Lara Nelore, Victor of the 57th Hunger Games. She knew what kind of person she had become.

"Prim, go to your room." She completed, not being able to watch her sweet daughter talk to someone like Lara.

"But, Mom—"

"Go to your room." There wasn't space for negotiation in those fierce blue eyes. Prim obeyed with a resigned nod.

Mrs. Everdeen placed the bags on the counter.

"Your daughter is very beautiful," Lara said, her voice filled with venom and sagaciousness. She had completely changed her body language as soon as Primrose left the room.

"What do you want?" She turned to face the Victor, carefully studying her form. Perfect hair, light make-up and an outstanding, fake smile. A perfect Victor.

"I believe you know why I'm here."

Mrs. Everdeen's heart sunk with bitter realization. She wanted to think that the smirk on Lara's lips was a teasing one, but under the layer of make-up and lies, she could read only shame and regret behind that light-pink smile.

"She's not home," the older woman finally answered.

"I can wait."

"You'll take her, won't you?" The question fled her mouth before she could think about a more subtle way to ask it.

Lara ran her fingers through her light auburn hair. She wasn't wearing the hairstyle she was famous for—the one she wore on her opening ceremony and Victory Tour—nor the leather hat she so commonly used. Only a discreet golden buckle could be the sign of someone born in District Ten.

Mrs. Everdeen was thankful for Lara's lack of symbols of who she really was—she didn't want to remember what that easy-smiling woman could do.

"I'd be much happier if you changed that pronoun. I'm not taking anyone. _They_ are."

Before any answer could be elaborated, the front door opened and both women could hear Katniss' voice along with Peeta's, and was that Haymitch's guffaw?

The trio stopped on their tracks at the sight of Lara, sitting on the kitchen's stool. Haymitch's laughter died so fast that he choked on his saliva.

"Holy shit," he breathed out between small coughs.

"Hello, Haymitch." Neither of them could hold each other's glance for more than that. Haymitch mumbled any excuse and headed for his house. Today he'd drink a whole bottle.

Katniss and Peeta shared a confused look, and Katniss' mother had an idea of what may have happened in that small exchange.

"Who are you?" Katniss' question was direct and firm.

The woman got up and outstretched her hand. "Good morning, Mrs. Mellark. I'm Lara Nelore."

Peeta already had a protective hand over Katniss' shoulder while both of them studied the woman. Something was off, the way Lara's yellowish eyes shined, how worn-out her leather boots were, but at the same time, how fashionable her golden bucket was. Her long hair was loose and covered half of her back over her brown leather jacket that so painfully reminded Katniss of her father's. What did this woman want?

"I'm Peeta." He accepted the greeting and shook Lara's hand. She smiled with an expression that almost resembled pity when she felt how warm his palm was against her pale, cold hand. She shook her head; that was no time for wonderings.

"You're both scheduled for tomorrow's train. I'll travel with you and explain the details during the trip."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Katniss …" Peeta pressed his hand lightly on his wife's shoulders, sensing how tense she already was.

Lara's smile didn't flinch as she leaned closer to Katniss' ear so fast that the younger woman didn't react.

"I hate all this shit as much as you do." Her whisper was loud enough for Peeta to hear, but Mrs. Everdeen couldn't catch the words. "But if you don't come with me," Lara continued, "I'm leaving Twelve with two corpses. And I'm not talking about you and Peeta." When she leaned back to once more sit on her chair, Katniss' face was extremely pale.

"We'll go when you say."

"Good." Lara stood up from the stool and made her way to the living room, heading for the door. "I'll be back here at six in the morning. Be ready."

It was just when she heard the sound of the front door shutting that Katniss allowed herself to freely breathe again.

She just had a new addition to the list of people she hated.

* * *

It was the reaping all over again. Both of them escorted to a Capitol's train and treated as children, but they weren't tributes anymore. They were Victors. They were married.

"You go ahead to meet Finn," Lara said as they entered the restaurant car. She touched Peeta's shoulder. "He'll be in the bar car. Go."

Reluctantly, Peeta released Katniss' hand and nodded. He still needed to know who the hell Finn was, but he was almost sure he wouldn't like him.

"And you"—Lara pointed to a couple of chairs next to the table—"you can sit here. You must know a few basic rules before we get to the Capitol."

"What's going on?"

"You're not a very good listener, are you? Anyway." Lara gestured to an Avox. "Bring us some coffee. And biscuits."

"I want tea," Katniss chimed in. She never liked that black, tasteless drink.

Lara waited for the Avox to disappear beyond the wagon's door before continuing. "Do you know what an escort is, Katniss?"

She had a vague idea, though nothing made scene of what was actually happening. What did the Capitol want with them now? The next Hunger Games was still months away.

"A Victor is someone very praised in the Capitol, Katniss. You probably had a small taste of that. But we are not just praised and admired … we're desired."

The words were carefully sinking in, and Katniss was afraid to understand what this entire circus was about.

"Imagine those colorful, stupid, soulless, ignorant people, watching young tributes kill each other. Some of them get really excited with the tributes, wanting to know everything about them. And when a favorite tribute becomes a Victor, what a big surprise!" One could almost touch the irony seeping from her voice. "This tribute now is someone reachable, not just a face in the television."

Lara broke their eye contact to look at the window, District Twelve slowly disappearing from the view.

"It was a matter of putting two and two together. Victors were desirable and reachable. Traumatized children needing support and attention."

Katniss' stomach turned into a knot.

"'Escort Victors' is the name of the business, but it's pure and simple prostitution. Both you and Peeta are high in the Capitol's rank, and Finnick and I will train you. I don't think I need to mention what happens if you say no, right?"

Katniss' breathing was accelerating, but she was determined not to break down in front of that despicable woman. She knew that if she wanted to keep her family and friends alive, she'd have to play along their game. She nodded.

"Good." Lara stood up, beckoning to the Avox that had returned with their beverages. "Enjoy the trip. We'll talk more when we get to the Capitol. And Katniss?"

Katniss didn't move her head but focused her steely eyes on the taller woman.

"I hope you don't have any dreams about a happy life. All of them were crushed the moment your name was pulled in that reaping."

"I volunteered." The words got out from gritted teeth.

"Oh, right. You saved your little sister." She took a sip from her coffee. "Do you want Primrose to have dreams?"

Hearing her sister's name on that mouth was infuriating. She swallowed her rage and nodded.

"So forget about yours," Lara said, turning around to exit the wagon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

A husky and charming voice welcomed Peeta when he entered the bar car. "Peeta Mellark."

Peeta raised an eyebrow at the man in front of him. The Avox next to the door exited the wagon, leaving them alone. Finnick sat at the table, momentarily glancing at Peeta before returning his attention to the chocolate cake on his plate. His perfectly combed hair didn't quite match his loud burp as he finished the dessert. "Sorry about that," he said. "I'm Finnick, District Four. And you are Peeta Mellark, aren't you?"

"Yes ..." Peeta said a bit unsure, accepting Finnick's outstretched hand.

"Have a seat, Peeta."

He obeyed, sitting opposite the man. His expression showed confusion, and Finnick felt a small thud of pity in his experienced heart. This poor boy didn't have a clue of what he'd have to face.

"You have no idea why you're here, right?" Finnick hoped his fake smile could hide his inner anger.

Peeta didn't respond, watching the young man with mild curiosity and growing anxiety. He wished Katniss were there.

"What do they want with us?" His voice faltered at the last word, but his face remained serious.

"Good question, boy." Taking a deep breath, Finnick decided to get it all out at once. "Lara likes big speeches and introductions, but that's not my style." He laughed lightly. "I wonder how Jo would do this ..." he muttered, a small smile on his face. "But well, back to your question. What do they want with you and your beautiful wife?"

The way he said the word "wife" made Peeta close his hands into fists.

"They want your youth, your soul, your body, and your life. I try to just give them the body." Finnick avoided Peeta's look as he searched for anything with a lot of sugar on the table. He spotted a strawberry mousse and grabbed it.

Peeta was silent, frowning, trying to understand what that meant. Their souls? Their youth? Their ... _bodies_?

"Prostitution," Finnick continued between spoonfuls of the delicate pink cream. "That's why you and the girl are here, an—"

The punch was sudden and completely unexpected. The spoon flew across the room, and Finnick lost his balance, almost falling from his chair. When he could focus again, a pair of wide, fearful, and angry blue eyes watched him, ready for more.

"What the fuck!" he yelled, standing up in an abrupt move. "Not in the fuckin' face!" The pain wasn't bad; Finn could take much more than that. The problem was that it would leave a mark on his perfect cheeks—and he needed perfect cheeks to work.

"Don't touch me!" Peeta shouted as Finnick tried to hold his hands, unsure if the boy was done with the punching. "And don't you dare touch her!" His voice was unstable, betraying the confidence his eyes tried to build.

Finnick took a deep breath, but the throbbing in his jaw wasn't letting him think straight. "I'm not responsible for all this shit!"

"You're taking us!"

"Do you think any of us wanted this? I'm just like you! I've been in this life for years, and I want to help you through it! You don't know the shit we had to do to help you!"

Peeta's breathing started to slow down, and for the first time, he convinced himself that Finnick wasn't going to hit him back. Finn shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Are you listening to this?" Finnick's sea-green eyes were fierce and locked on Peeta's azure. He tensed again. When Finnick didn't move, he stopped and listed.

The wagon vibrated with the fast wind outside; there was a faint sound coming from below, a thudding from the high-speed trail. The servants in the kitchen were using metal tools, and Peeta heard the repetitive "clack" of metal against metal. Nothing else.

"Can you hear it?" Finnick asked again, his eyes losing a little of their previous strength. "This sound is your wife accepting the truth in a much more mature way than you. Silence. When the Capitol points a gun at everyone you love, that's your answer. Silent obedience."

Was that woman telling Katniss what Peeta just heard? He needed to see her.

"Take this trip to rest. Go to your room, sleep, fuck, I don't care. We'll talk again in the Capitol. And, boy?"

Peeta turned from the door to look up at him, his hand starting to hurt now that the heat was fading.

"Don't you ever touch my face again." He offered him a lopsided smile. Peeta didn't know if he should smile back or not, though he wasn't feeling any desire to.

"Just go." Finn waved him out of the room. Peeta closed the door silently behind him.

"And I was here thinking he was a weakling ..." Finn said while massaging his chin.

* * *

He had been pacing outside the wagon for five minutes. All his resolution to enter their cabin had faded when he was face to face with the oak door. He knew Katniss was there, though the room was stone silent.

What was he supposed to say, anyway? Did she know? What do you say to your wife when you're both recruited to be prostitutes?

He opened and closed his fists in a steady movement, the heat from before giving in to mild pain. Finnick's jaw was hard.

Pushing the door open, his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, heading for the bed. He climbed into it slowly, being careful with his bad leg.

Katniss' back was to him, and she wasn't moving. He wasn't sure if she was sleeping or not. He brushed her shoulder lightly, and she immediately stiffened under his touch, her entire body going rigid. She was too paralyzed with fear and disgust to speak.

Unsure of what to say, Peeta whispered, "Katniss?"

"You know?" Her voice was angry and muffled with repressed tears.

Peeta bit his lips, feeling the impotency of his acts. He couldn't protect her.

His silence was enough of an answer.

"What else do they want?" She was on the edge of breaking, turning to face him. His heart sunk at the sight of her puffy, red eyes. "I fucking married you, didn't I?" His chest physically hurt at that. "I did everything they wanted!" she continued without really noticing his reaction. "And now … and now they want me to—to…" Her words were mixing with small pants, and she felt the bitter taste of bile in the back of her throat.

Katniss stumbled to the bathroom connected to their compartment, kneeling on the floor to vomit. Peeta was by her side in a second, grasping her arm tightly and rubbing her back.

She had nothing in her stomach and just dry heaved a few times before finding the strength to push him back. He was startled by the sudden move, tripping backwards out of the bathroom.

"Don't touch me!" were her first words between desperate gasps and tears.

"I, I—" He didn't know what to say, what to argue. She was crying, and he would be too, soon. He was hurt by the situation, by her words. They were both scared.

"I did everything ..." She covered her face with her hands, the words stifled by saliva and sobs. "Everything! And they still—"

Ignoring her request, Peeta crawled next to her again, stretching out his arm to hold her lithe form. Without the same vigor from before, she pushed him away, but he was stronger, holding her firmly against him, pulling her into a forced embrace. She desperately tried to free herself from his arms, though she wasn't sure what she was fighting against: her fears, the Capitol, or Peeta. He didn't give in, feeling her protests weakening and her crying subduing. She cursed him one last time and passed out in his arms; relief ran through his body.

He didn't know what kept him together. He was angry, desperate and so, so tired. With an enormous effort, he picked Katniss up from the bathroom floor and placed her on the bed. His prosthetic screamed in pain by the time he lay next to her.

When her breathing evened, showing that she was finally asleep, Peeta let his own emotions flow. Hiding his tears in a pillow, he cried until oblivion took hold.

* * *

"Hey," Finnick said, knocking on the opened door. Lara was so focused on the paper in front of her that she didn't see him. Hearing the sound, she looked up. "How was it in there?" he asked.

"Okay and—wow, what happened to your face?" She discarded the paper in her hands, noticing for the first time the red mark on Finnick's jaw.

"He didn't take the news very well." He brushed her arms aside when she tried to touch his face. "I'm fine. They'll fix it when we get there."

"You provoked him, didn't you?" Lara narrowed her eyes at him, both her hands on her hips. "They're kids, Finn."

"So were we when we started!"

Lara nodded silently. He was right; she won her Games at sixteen. A few months later she was an Escort—an excellent one.

She sighed tiredly, sitting on the chair once more.

"So …" Finnick continued, standing awkwardly next to the door. "Did you see him?"

"How wouldn't I? It's a tiny district."

"And …" He bounced on his toes. The movement reminded her of a younger Finnick, a tribute still scared of the shiny buildings in the Capitol. The memory made her smile. "How was it?"

"Awkward." Her smile faded away. "Still is, after all these years."

"You really should tell him, Lara. He won't judge." His puppy face was almost irresistible with the bruise. Almost.

"Everybody judges, Finn. Never forget that."

"Right." He stepped into the hallway again.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in her room. Lara glanced at the phone next to her bed. Biting her lips, she reached for it. She started to dial the numbers, but gave up midway.

"Haymitch wouldn't care …" she mumbled to herself before tossing the phone on the nightstand.

* * *

It was a huge house in the suburbs of the Capitol. The garden was perfectly pruned, with beautiful forms made from the colorful bushes. Inside the impressive front door, the walls were a mild yellow, and different paintings of landscapes covered the first hallway. Moving forward, the house was richly furnished and didn't resemble at all what it really was for Katniss: a prison.

"Each of you will have a private bedroom, since we're not used to having couples work here," Lara said as they followed her through the rooms in the house. "But I personally asked for double beds, and you can sneak into each other's room at any time. There are no rules against that."

Finnick followed behind them, watching the young couple carefully. He knew they were having a hard time. Who wouldn't in their situation? Lara could feel the tension as well, though she hid her sympathy beneath her painted face.

Both Katniss and Peeta were in awe of the richness of the furniture. Statues, paintings, leather, velvet. They would soon be more used to the Capitol lifestyle, even if they didn't want to.

"Finnick will show you to your accommodations, Mr. Mellark." Lara concluded the brief tour around the living rooms, pointing a hallway to Peeta. "And you should follow me, Mrs. Mellark." The smile she offered Katniss almost made her throw up. The woman was hideous.

Peeta tried to search for her hand before following Finnick, but Katniss pointedly ignored his gesture. She wasn't ready for it at the moment. They had just arrived at the Capitol, and everything was still battling in her mind.

The Avoxes that were with them exited along with Peeta and Finnick, and the two women were left alone. The living room, one of many, had two red couches on each side, and two glass windows on the far wall. The yellow curtains fluttered with the late spring breeze, giving the ambience a sense of peace. Red and yellow was a bad choice of colors, in Katniss' opinion, but nothing in the city was a good choice for her, anyway.

"We're going to the Talent Room." Lara didn't even bother to ask her to follow. Katniss didn't have an option besides staying in the stupid room by herself.

They passed through a hall and into another living room, this one bigger than the previous. Lara stopped in front of an imposing, white door modeled with golden details. Katniss wondered if it was real gold.

"You know each Victor has a talent, right?"

She wasn't stupid; her pointed look was Lara's answer. The woman smiled, not even slightly shaken by Katniss' scowl.

"Each Escort also has a talent," she continued. "Don't worry about yours. We're still building your profile." She used both her hands to open the door. It gave in easily despite its size.

"This is more like a presentation room. Just to be here, the client already has to pay a fortune."

Katniss followed her slow steps, her chin falling while she glanced around the room.

The floor shined with white pearl tiles. Katniss could see her reflection in the mirrored surface. The walls were pale beige, adorned with gold at the corners. Glass walls divided the huge room, and couches and small tables occupied each space.

On each pane of glass, Katniss could see pictures of other Victors. She soon understood; they were Escorts. All of them were formally dressed, but each ensemble revealed more skin than necessary, marking them for their trade. The order of the framed paintings followed the Districts, like everything else in the Capitol.

A couple of beautiful, strongly built and surprisingly alike Victors filled the wall entitled District One. Districts Two showed an equally astonishing trio of images, two almost scary men and a tall, _totally_ scary woman with golden teeth.

"Shouldn't there be more Victors from One and Two?" Katniss asked, still watching the golden shine in the image.

"Careers sometime have … the right connections in the Capitol," Lara explained, her voice soft as to not disturb the quietude of the room. "Others are retired, and a few don't work every year. As I said, right connections." Katniss moved on to the next wall, sadly thinking she would never have good connections there. She actually didn't want any kind of connections in this vulgar city.

There was no Escort from District Three. Apparently, their Victors weren't sexy enough for the Capitol's desire.

From District Four, Katniss found herself staring at a breath-taking, dark-blue-suited, younger Finnick. His suit clung to his muscles, and he was holding a silver trident. His broad chest was exposed under his opened jacket, and Katniss blushed a little. Hard not to.

Next to him, with very reveling cleavage, a brown-haired woman stared at a window. It was the only picture where the Victor wasn't looking at the camera. Her dress was a pale green that matched the color of her eyes. She was beautifully sad.

Katniss tried to memorize the faces on the walls. They would be her colleagues, right? Lara followed her silently, letting the younger woman absorb her new reality.

A delicate redheaded woman filled the glass from Five. Something in her eyes reminded Katniss of someone. Maybe a classmate? It didn't matter; whoever it was, was part of a past lifetime. There was a pixie-haired woman from Seven wearing a malicious grin that Katniss recognized—the one that played as a weakling and won her Games. The only black Escorts were from District Eleven, and they were a painful reminder of Rue. Lara's didn't match the look of the woman next to her in the room; in her picture, Lara wore her reddish-auburn hair in two tight braids parted by a leather hat. She appeared to be a few years younger, but not quite as youthful as she had been during her Games. She was holding a rope tied with lace, and her eyes had a hint of lust. Katniss looked back at the other portraits and noticed the same thing.

Around the room, the images of the victors had one similarity: pure lust in brown, honey, green, and blue eyes—and of course, gray.

She stopped in front of the glass wall designated to District Twelve.

Her own portrait had been taken during her Victory Tour, when she wore a dress that had shown most of her back. She hardly recognized herself or the smile pasted on her face. Did they alter the images?

"As you can see, we're all here." Lara's voice made her turn on her heels. "Under each picture, there's the characteristic of the Escort. Yours and Peeta's are still getting ready, but since we have a week before the season, we're fine."

"Season?"

"We don't work the entire year. Escort Victors have a month break at each three months of work. Summer Season starts next week. That's why the House is so empty."

Katniss thought about it. At least she would still have time to see her family in those vacation months.

She took a deep breath and looked at her wall again, but now she forced herself to look at the portrait next to hers.

Peeta's outfit was a dark suit with red tie and shoes. Katniss didn't remember when he had worn those. His lopsided smile was perfect in place, and his eyes shined with the same promiscuity of the others. An uninvited shiver ran her spine at the thought of that, but the shiver of arousal mixed with confused anger. That was _her _spouse. _Her_ husband. The Capitol was exposing him like dead meat.

The room seemed like a gallery, an art exhibition, though if one wanted to be realistic it was more like a food court.

"Under each Victor's portrait, there's a chart. It shows your … abilities."

Shaking her head, Katniss focused on Lara's voice, looking under each image and noticing a few symbols.

"What do they mean?"

Lara stopped in front of her own portrait, pointing to the respective chart with each explanation.

"The blue square is for men. Red square for women. The colorful one is for more than two partners from both genders." Katniss didn't even want to know what that meant. "The black square is for … intense activities. The golden one is for first class escort." She continued to walk around the room, pointing out different colors of classification. "Silver is for second class and bronze for third."

Katniss noticed a phrase under the charts. "And what's this?"

"Oh." Lara almost smiled to herself, adjusting her white dress in a self-conscious gesture. "Our talents. Read a few."

Katniss once more looked at the pictures, this time reading each Victor's talent.

_Multiple partners. _

_ Sadomasochism._

_ Virgins._

That was enough; she didn't need to read all of them. Then she wondered …

"What is mine? Or Peeta's?"

"Oh honey." Lara smiled sadly at her. "We have a week to find out."

* * *

"There are rules, and as long as you follow them, there won't be any problem." Finnick led them to Peeta's bedroom, a fancy, blue decorated room. "They are simple and easy to follow. One step out of the line, and you get in trouble."

Peeta was sitting on the couch opposite to the bed, that Finnick had claimed. He couldn't stop thinking about Katniss and hated the fact they were doing this separately. All he wanted was the comforting warmth of her arm around his waist.

"When a client buys you, he or she knows your list of dos and don'ts. Considering that, you should do whatever the client asks."

"And if it's something that I don't do?"

"That won't happen. Everybody has to follow the rules. Even clients." Finnick straightened up, cracking his neck. He playfully winked at Peeta.

"Be punctual. You start your work at ten; you finish at three. Ten-to-three. If the client asks you to be late, that's okay. If he asks you to leave early, obey. But never, _never_ stay after three."

"And why is that?"

"Would you like to sleep at a client's house?" Peeta shook his head; having sex with them was already distasteful enough. Finnick nodded. "They think the same about us."

Finn loosened his tie. It was starting to get hotter with the upcoming summer. "Each client suggests a different outfit that will be laid on your bed by eight. You'll wear whatever it will be." Finnick placed a finger under his chin, thinking of what else he could say to a beginner on his first day. "Oh right, condoms. Always bring condoms. We have regular checkups and shots, but that's a rule. There's an exception when we're filming, but we'll get to that later."

A ball of cement weighed heavily in Peeta's stomach. Filming? Was he going to be a fucking porn star on top of this?

"There are doctors 24/7 here in the House." Finn ignored the disgusted look on Peeta's face. "If after a job, you need one, never go to a hospital. The driver will bring you back home, and our doctors will fix you."

The cement melted into sickness. What could happen to him to need a doctor? Even worse: what if Katniss needed one someday?

Peeta's face was turning red, anger bubbling in him. Finnick noticed and adjusted his tie, getting up.

"Our first training session will be tomorrow at eight. There will be someone to guide you." He was almost out of the room when he turned back. "Make peace with your wife. You'll need each other in his hell."

* * *

Katniss finally crawled out of the bed after the third knock. She knew it was Peeta. Who else would look for her after this hell of a day?

He was visibly nervous when she opened her bedroom door.

"You didn't show up for dinner," he said, anxiously passing a hand through his hair. "I just want to know if you're—"

"I'm fine." She didn't meet his eyes to answer and disappeared in the room again. She left the door open, which he took as permission to enter.

The peach colored room was spotless, except for the small sag on the mattress where Katniss had spent the last couple of hours. She climbed into bed again, curling up her knees and leaving her back to Peeta. He sat next to her, fighting the urge to touch her shoulder.

Lara had showed her the rest of the House, a tour including the kitchen, a recreation room, the medical ward, and finally her own bedroom. Katniss had listened to the new rules that would guide the rest of her life. There was one good thing among them: she would never starve again—though the price for it included humiliation, fear, and physical pain.

"Katniss …" He hesitated, and she could feel his hand hovering over her shoulder. She remained silent.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for her, warming her arm with his palm. "I missed you today."

She nodded, still facing the other side of the room.

"Finnick showed me around. He also explained some rules."

"Same with me," she said quietly, biting her lip. The closeness of him and the tender caress of his fingers reminded her how lonely and afraid she was. They were a team. Peeta was her husband, and they were facing a cold reality. Why not face it together?

She turned, nestling her head next to his hips. Peeta smiled weakly and threaded his fingers through her loose hair.

He wanted to talk about their situation, their misfortune, their stupendous bad luck, but that wasn't the time for it. Instead, all he wanted to do was what Finnick had suggested: look for comfort in each other.

"Are you hungry?"

She opened her eyes, having closed them under his steady caress.

"Not really."

"What about soup?"

She considered for a moment and relented with a shy nod. There he was again, taking care of her.

Peeta turned to the nightstand and frowned at the controller for a few minutes before pushing a couple of buttons. He looked around the room, but nothing came up from the table or the wall. He frowned again and was going to try for a different combination of buttons when they heard a knock on the door.

"Lara said that they like a few things in the old-fashioned way," Katniss said, sensing Peeta's confusion. "It's a house of Victors," she continued. "They don't expect us to be used to fancy Capitol technology."

"Makes sense to me," Peeta mumbled while opening the door.

An Avox entered and exited the room, leaving a tray behind. Katniss ate the vegetable soup with newfound hunger, and Peeta watched her with a small smile.

"What?" she asked between two hurried mouthfuls, feeling self-conscious under his stare.

"Nothing." He turned to lie on the bed, hiding his widening smile in the pillow. Katniss playfully scowled at his back and covered her own smile with another spoonful.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, she joined him in her bed, turning off the lights. His eyes remained closed, and he cocooned her with his arms. She felt warmed and protected, smiling at the soft touch of his lips on her temple.

Tiredness was taking control of her body, but her mind raced with thoughts. How would they face it? Hell, how would _she _face it? Accepting Peeta as a husband hadn't been easy; how would it be to have another man's arms around her? Different lips lavishing her body and uninvited hands exploring her? She shivered.

Peeta was quiet, but she could tell he wasn't sleeping. His arms were too tight around her.

"How are we going to make it?" she whispered.

Peeta heaved a long breath; his own thoughts mirrored hers.

"Nobody is going to hurt you," he said into the darkness. "I promise you that."

Katniss was happy he couldn't see her mouth turn into a thin line. She shouldn't be surprised. Here was Peeta being Peeta again, like he did the night before their Games. While her thoughts were lost in herself, all he could think about was _her_ well-being. If she pushed it, his next concern would be something related to morals or character. She thanked the blackness again as her mouth morphed to a small smile.

She didn't say anything, though. Both of them knew he couldn't keep that promise.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hello, guys! The replies to the first chapters were amazing! I'm glad you are at least _intrigued_ with this plot.

Thank you very much for all the reviews, comments, alerts, and follows!

Any doubt, please send me a PM or leave a comment.

Special thanks to **Project Team Beta** and their amazing work with this fic.

Maia


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for your favorites, reviews and follows.

Warnings: Rated NC-17(M), Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, Abuse and Dub-Con.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Finnick and Lara conferred over a thin piece of paper when Katniss and Peeta entered the room. Finn looked up at them, holding a pen. "Eight o'clock. Good to see you two are punctual. One less thing to train for."

The younger couple nodded and sat on a couch next to the other victors. They were in a minor living room in the House.

Lara bid them a dry good morning and folded the paper they were working on. "I think that's it," she said while offering Finnick a tight smile. Katniss thought that, without make-up, she didn't look so detestable.

Finnick responded with a broad smile before turning to Peeta and Katniss again. "During this week, other victors will be coming to the Capitol for the season. You'll meet them when the time comes." He took the paper from Lara's hand. "Until then," he continued, "we're going to train you. Another victor will also help you with useful advice. I suggest you pay attention." He winked at them and gave the paper to Peeta.

"What's this?" Katniss asked, her eyes not leaving Peeta's hand.

"It's a list," Lara answered, making eye contact with both of them. "Part of your training will involve sexual activities." Katniss' hand closed around Peeta's as they tensed. "And they're listed here."

"We probably won't go through all of them," Finnick chimed in, his usual smirk changing to an apologetic smile. It didn't help with Katniss' nerves. "But you two should."

At their frowning, Finnick explained, "You two should try everything that is on this list. Make sure your first time trying _anything_ isn't with your clients."

The information sank in, and Peeta looked at his wife. Her grip tightened, and he responded with the same intensity.

"We're doing you a favor," Lara said when they faced her again.

Katniss' rage overcame her tension. "I'm sorry. I'm missing the 'favor' part in all of this," she barked.

"Do you want the first man to fuck you from behind to be a stranger or your husband?" Finnick responded with the same tone Katniss had used, but his words lacked irony. His charming smile was back in place as soon as he saw the shock on Katniss' face. She didn't have a fast reply for that, taken aback by the boldness of his words.

Peeta squeezed her hand before speaking. "How do you know what we have done or not?"

"We don't." Lara's smile was sincere. "We just assumed you were young, scared, and forced into marriage and prostitution."

"And we already filed a report saying you had done all of these things," Finnick admitted. "So none of these will be auctioned for the clients."

Katniss felt her stomach turn with the idea of being auctioned off. Peeta had a different reaction; he was thankful.

"Here." Finnick fished something out of his pocket and stretched out his hand. There were a couple of green pills and two blue ones. "You only have today for this little service." He winked at Peeta, making him blush. "Tomorrow the hard work will begin," Finn continued. "You'll need these pills to ... keep up."

"And you need to get used to them," Lara completed. Peeta accepted the four pills, carefully placing them in his pocket.

"Take the green one when you feel tired or exhausted. Take the blue one to sleep after you have gone through the list." Lara's voice had changed to a soft tone. For a reason Katniss couldn't place, it wasn't as disturbing as before.

"What are they?" Katniss inquired, her eyes avoiding Lara's.

"The green ones are adrenaline pills, known as A-pills in the Capitol," Finn replied. He had lost count how many times he had used them to complete a job.

"Drugs?" Peeta's face was a mix of curiousness and hesitation.

"Nothing major," Lara answered him. "You'll use them lots of times for work."

Katniss and Peeta exchanged a concerned look, but nodded anyway.

"They help," Finnick offered as comfort.

"Peeta's room is prepared for you," Lara informed them while standing up, and Finnick followed her.

"Take today as a day off." Finnick winked at Peeta again, whose blush hadn't faded since the first time.

Katniss and Lara snorted at the same time, the latter rolling her eyes not to smile. They glanced at each other and Lara nodded—a simple understanding. Maybe she wasn't that bad, after all. Just another soul corrupted by the system.

When they exited the room, leaving Katniss and Peeta inside, Lara poked Finn in the ribs.

"You're such an ass!" Her attempt at scowling turned into a laugh.

"C'mon, it wasn't that bad. They'll be fine!" He used his elbow to return the gesture. Their laugh subdued as they walked, strolling along the corridor that would lead them to the kitchen.

"We did something good today," Lara mused, her glance cast down. "I wished I'd had mentors like us when I entered this life."

"Well, I did." Finnick put his arm around her shoulders. She didn't move her sight from the floor, smiling nostalgically.

"Guess who's coming tomorrow?" she asked with a happier tone, looking up at Finnick with bright, honey eyes. He understood the message and grinned in a boyish way. "The eleven o'clock train. I told them you were going to the station."

"Thank you." Finnick kissed the side of her head, tightening his arms around her.

His day had just gotten better at the thought of Annie.

* * *

Peeta's eyes widened as he read each new topic of the list in his hands.

"What is it?" Standing on her tiptoes, Katniss tried to peek over his shoulder.

"Hmm …" Peeta was beet red and stuttered a little, trying to find decent words to explain to his wife—his too innocent wife—what they would have to do. "It's a … a …"

She grabbed the paper from his hands, too impatient to wait for any kind of explanation.

Katniss scanned the list hastily and frowned. She widened her eyes. Blushed; blushed deeper. Frowned again.

"Is this …" She pointed to a certain item on the list, arching her eyebrow in question.

"Yes." Peeta didn't meet her eyes, his blush turning an impossible shade of red.

"And here you …" She pointed to another line. Peeta nodded, but this time he looked at her. He thought she was as red as her olive skin could get.

"Yeah but, but … with me, instead." He awkwardly gestured with his hands and just hoped she'd understand.

"Oh." Her mouth made the "O" shape perfectly as she understood what that meant. He was wrong; her cheeks could get even redder.

"But …" Her frown was back as she kept glancing between the paper and Peeta. "But I, and you … I—"

"Poop from there?"

They stared at each other for a silent bit, their faces red. Peeta was the first to break into a nervous laugh, but Katniss soon joined him. "I'm sorry, I just …" Peeta started to say.

"I know." She bit her lips to suppress her smile, even though she wasn't sure why they were laughing. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing deeply as he hugged her.

"We don't have to do anything." His voice was calm and secure, so different from their situation.

"You heard him."

Peeta knew she was right. He had seethed inside at the idea of another man fucking his wife.

Silence fell between them again, both their minds trying to process their new reality. Peeta pulled away to head for the bed, and Katniss hesitantly followed him. As he sat, something on his nightstand called his attention. Beside a pink bottle of body lotion, there was a different kind of remote. It wasn't the ones one normally ordered food or called Avoxes with.

"Do you know what this is?" He touched the slim gadget.

She vaguely remembered one of those in her room at the Training Center, but she wasn't sure. "I think it's—"

A loud moan muffled her voice as Peeta pushed one random button. On the wall opposite to the bed, a huge screen shined, showing a couple in what probably was item four on the list. They startled at the embarrassing noise, turning to the TV. Peeta fumbled with the glassy remote until it was turned off again.

"That was …"

"Tips?" Peeta tried when Katniss didn't find words. For the second time in the morning, they shared a nervous laugh.

Katniss stopped herself, biting her inner cheek. There was no real reason to laugh, was there?

"So..." She cleared her throat, palming her thighs for something to do with her hands. "Which one do you want to do first?"

"You are so romantic." Peeta bumped her shoulder lightly, resting his warm hands above hers. "Do you want start with something specific?"

"I don't know." Katniss tucked her loose hair behind her ear. She didn't want to do _any_ of those things. She just wanted to go home.

"Why don't we start with the things we know?" When she looked up at him, he was closer, his breath brushing her neck. Maybe this was the closest thing from home she could get. He leaned in and kissed her neck gently, making her skin erupt in goose bumps. Peeta nudged her cheek with his nose, moving until his mouth was touching her ear. "Even if we were at home—"He lavished her earlobe languidly, his words echoing in her head along her racing heart."—I'd want to do a lot of things with you."

She released a shuddering breath and turned to meet his waiting lips. He welcomed her tongue when she searched for him; her chocolate taste melted with his sugar-less tea flavor. It felt just like home.

His hands ran up her thighs and waist, searching for the edge off her blouse. She reached it first and bared her chest for him in a smooth move.

After the quick distraction of seeing that she wasn't wearing a bra, he took of his own shirt, their chests meeting in a quiet gasp from both of them.

Peeta kissed her jaw softly, too aware of the hard nipples grazing his torso. She tried to stifle a moan when she palmed his swelling member through his pants, the desire waking in her core. He swore quietly under her touch, opening his mouth to trace kisses on her chest.

The rest of their clothes hit the floor not much later. Katniss straddled his good leg, needing any pressure over her heating center. Peeta smiled into the kiss she gave him, her dampness showing her arousal; at least he knew that was real.

He turned her to lay on top, supporting his knees by the side of her hips. He used his elbows to compensate for his prosthesis. One of her small hands caressed his chest and abs, her gnawed fingernails tickling him lightly. Any kind of laugh died in his throat as she cupped his cock, closing her fingers firmly around him. The only sound he could manage was a hiss. She positioned him at her entrance, gulping down the lingering feeling of newness. He captured her lips once more, his nostrils expanding to inhale all of her. He broke the kiss to stare at her hooded eyes.

His azure glance was darker due to his dilated pupils, and his plumped lips were parted and red. "Wait," he whispered. Katniss frowned at the possible rejection. Peeta read it in her eyes and continued before any protests. "The first thing on the list." His eyes focused on hers, waiting for a response.

"You want me to …" She raised one eyebrow.

"No." He shook his head right after. "I mean, yes. But I want to do it first. To you," he added sheepishly, and she felt him twitching in her hands. Her grip tightened around his erection.

"'Kay."

He captured her lips in another deep kiss. She tried to forget where they were and why they were there, concentrating her attention on the hungry tongue lashing her mouth. Peeta moaned as he pressed his mouth against her neck before licking his way down to her chest. Her moans were more audible when he circled his mouth around a peaked nipple, and she groaned when he sucked it. She needed something to claw to—she needed him _closer_—and her hands lost themselves in his blond curls.

Peeta kept at his assault on her breasts, his hand always massaging the one his mouth couldn't reach. He tried an exploratory finger between her legs, and she bulked against him when his middle finger parted her seeping folds.

She wanted him.

Satisfied, Peeta moved his head even lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses on her belly and navel until his head was between her thighs. He looked up at her then, and she thought the view was quite amusing. She could see only from his nose up, his big blue eyes shining with excitement. If her prep team hadn't ridded her of hair, he'd have looked like Mr. Bolton from the Hob, with his thick, dark mustache. She suppressed a laugh at this thought and nodded, answering the silent question in his eyes.

Katniss bit her tongue when her laugh would have turned into an embarrassing moan at the wet touch of his lips. It felt amazingly good; but it just felt good because she knew it was Peeta. She knew it was Peeta's tongue teasing her folds, Peeta's fingers pumping into her, moving in tandem with his mouth on her aching clit. Peeta's lips exploring her thoroughly. Peeta's hand bringing her so close.

Peeta's name on her lips as she came in a strong wave, the pleasure uncoiling from her core to her entire body. Her legs shut around his head while her fingers pulled way too tight to be comfortable in his hair.

It was all for him.

He trailed light kisses on his way up to her mouth, feeling her trembling under him with the aftermath shudders. Still panting, Katniss kissed him back as well as she could, but her muscles were limp. An earthy taste peppered his lips, and she knew she was tasting herself. It was oddly arousing.

His sweaty forehead rested on her temple as they parted for air. Gray, shy eyes looked up at him, and they shared a weak smile. She felt his hardness grazing her thigh, and her smile turned into a thin line.

Oh, right. She was supposed to do the same thing to him.

Gathering up her courage, she turned and gestured for him to lay down. Straddling his hips, she kissed his jaw and neck, moving to explore his broad chest; it had felt so good to her, she figured he'd like it too. A long moan escaped him when her mouth found his nipple, and he couldn't help bucking against her. She looked up, a smirk on her face. He once more lifted his hips at the sight of her; tangled hair, reddened cheeks, swollen lips from kissing … and desire in her eyes.

"I—I really want to feel you." He exhaled rapidly, the words mixing with gasps. He was trembling from desire, curiousness and need. Peeta wanted to feel those lips on him for so long that he almost forgot why they were there. Swallowing dryly, he pushed those thoughts aside; it was their moment.

Her hands ran down his chest and stopped at his waist. She snaked down to rest between his legs, trying to ignore the nervousness building up in her stomach. Katniss took a deep breath and faced her challenge—her husband's cock.

Okay, she had a small problem here. No, not small. A big problem. There was no way _that_ would fit in her mouth. Even after being intimate with him, she still wondered how that entered in her vagina—and her mouth was much smaller!

"You can just—just lick it. You don't need to, you know, put everything in."

She glanced up to see worry in Peeta's face as he tried to offer any kind of solution to her problem.

She scowled. He did it; she could do it too. She killed things, for God's sake! Of course she could suck on a cock.

"That's okay," she muttered before tilting her head and giving a tentative lick on the tip. Peeta pushed his head back on the pillow, the feeling and the sight too overwhelming.

Encouraged by his response, she risked another lick, this time slowly contouring the head. Peeta cursed quietly, so she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to engulf him.

It was … different, almost weird. She extended her jaw as much as she could, trying to push further, and Peeta had to bite hard on his lips not to buck into her mouth.

Tentatively, slowly, she started to move her head, setting a rhythm that both of them could handle. Katniss soon noticed she would need one hand to stroke the rest of him, and another to hold his hips down, or he'd hit her throat. That would be messy.

He wasn't going to last long. Not at the way her soft lips vibrated around him. He desperately pushed the thoughts of Capitol, lists, obligation, and fear from his mind and concentrated on his spouse's mouth and tongue. When she found a sensitive spot, he was dangerously close. He needed to warn her, but when the hand that was on his shaft tugged shyly on his balls, he couldn't hold it anymore. His plea of warning turned into a relieved moan.

One thing is to imagine how it'd be; another is to watch a video about it. Though feel her husband coming inside her mouth was something she couldn't be prepared for.

His hand held firmly in her hair, and she couldn't pull back. She dealt with it as cleanly as she could, but the sheet also received part of what she couldn't take. When his grip loosened, she released him, popping her mouth free. She blushed at the sound and the situation, though she felt a sense of accomplishment. Katniss wondered if she would always feel like this or if it was because of their list.

With his eyes closed, Peeta mumbled incoherently. Opening and closing her mouth, she realized she'd need water; because of the texture, not the taste. The taste was … interesting.

"Come here." Peeta opened his eyes and pulled her up to his side, warming her in a tight embrace.

They decided not to talk; how could the idea of someone else doing this to them be a good topic?

* * *

"Miss Nelore," a tall, massive man welcomed while entering the kitchen. Lara sat at the table, staring at her unfinished breakfast, lost in thought. She looked up and frowned. "Nice to see you again for another season." He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Gloss," She greeted him tepidly. Gloss had full potential to be a very nice person. He just didn't use any of it.

He searched for a coffee pot on the island in the center of the white kitchen. Lara followed his movements with her eyes.

"Where are they?" he asked, his eyes not leaving his steaming mug.

"Who?"

Gloss looked up, flashing her a perfect smile. His blond hair was short and shined in the morning light. As a former career, Gloss always looked good. "Don't play the fool with me."

"So ask real questions."

"Where is our famous couple? The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve?" He made a dramatic impression of someone in love as he sat next to her.

That wasn't good. That meant everyone in this business knew Katniss and Peeta would be Escorts. They'd have tons of clients, and that wasn't good in this job.

"Training," she responded nonchalantly, taking a sip of her cold coffee. She grimaced; maybe she'd been in the kitchen longer than she had thought.

"With whom?"

"Why don't you go take care of your life?" she spat.

"Got it." For a moment, his smile faded. "Just don't forget to tell them how things work around here. And if either of them touch Cashmere—"

"Shut up. Nobody touches her. She's the one touching people." She cut him off, getting up from her chair. "You two make me sick."

"No, we make money. Lots of it." His smile was back in place.

She ignored him before he could start talking about inappropriate things, which were his favorite topic. Lara headed for the adjacent hall where one of the phones was installed. Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus her thoughts where they were before Gloss' interruption.

With stiff fingers, she dialed the numbers from memory.

"District Ten Telephone Station. Access code, please," a voice called from the other line.

Lara repeated her code, because phone calls weren't for just any citizen.

"How can I help you?" the operator asked after checking the numbers.

"Nelore residence, please." She waited for the call to be transferred.

"Hey," she said quietly, looking around to make sure she was alone. A knowing smile spread on her face as a tiny voice answered. "It's Lara."

* * *

Peeta breathed heavily when Katniss finally collapsed on top of him. He held her body as she was still trembling, murmuring soft words into her hair.

After each new item, each new move and adventure, he always whispered to her. He wanted to make sure that she knew the difference when someone else would be doing those things to her. She had to know that being with him was different; he hoped it was special and wished she only found pleasure with him. He knew he wouldn't with anyone else.

Their breaths slowed down. He idly played with her hair, her eyes fluttering close.

They didn't know exactly how long they had been in the room. Most of the list was done; some were good, others were complicated—the videos helped with the doubts—and a few were simply weird. Peeta also discovered he _hated_ being upside down.

Katniss was still sprawled out on top of him when they heard the knock on the door. She looked up, and he returned the puzzled expression. He gently freed himself from her loose embrace and put on a robe to open the door.

An Avox arrived with a cart, and curtsied before leaving. Peeta pulled the food tray inside.

"What is it?" she asked from the bed, lazily covering her nudity with the sheet. Tiredness was taking hold of her body.

Peeta rolled the tray next to her. "Refreshments and sandwiches."

At the sight of the colorful tray, she was suddenly aware of the hollow in her stomach. Half of her first sandwich was gone before she noticed Peeta's blush.

"What?" she questioned with her mouth full.

"Nothing." He sat next to her, his hands in his robe pockets.

"What? C'mon, tell me." She swallowed another chunk of her lunch.

Peeta bit his lower lip but resigned, grabbing a paper from his pocket. She rubbed her hands to clean the breadcrumbs and grabbed the paper.

_Stay hydrated!_

_ Maybe it's time for the pills._

_ Go get her, champion! _

_-Finn _

She snorted at the mentor's word choice. Peeta's lips pressed together in his ultimate task not to laugh.

"You like him, don't you?" Katniss asked while discarding the paper and searching for another sandwich.

"I don't dislike him." Peeta got himself some lunch. He was looking at the bread in his hand when he inquired, "Do you want to take them?"

"I guess we have to."

"If you don't …"

"We have more things to do. And honestly, I'm tired. I think we need them."

He nodded, and they finished their meal in silence.

Using his good leg, Peeta fished his pants from the floor, taking the pills from the pocket. He separated the blue from the green and gave one to Katniss.

"Together?" He stared into her eyes, hoping his own would show what he really felt. She leaned to kiss his lips, resting her forehead against his.

"Together."

* * *

"Jo is in the House!" Johanna yelled as she entered the kitchen, her arms raised like she was expecting a big cheer.

Katniss and Peeta were chatting with Lara, the three of them sharing a quiet breakfast. Gloss and Cashmere were eating cereal and reading a newspaper at the corner of the table. They raised the same pair of green eyes and offered identical, classically beautiful smiles as greeting.

"Guys," Johanna said pointing at the siblings, noticing they were sharing the same spoon to eat their cereal. Cashmere got a spoonful and gave it back to Gloss; they didn't even have to look at each other, always knowing where the other's hand would be. Johanna grimaced. "Did I already tell you that's gross?"

"All the time," Cashmere answered in her crystal-clear voice.

"So I'm telling you again: gross." Johanna turned to the other three occupants of the room. "Royal couple." She playfully bowed in Katniss and Peeta's direction. "And big L." She winked at Lara.

Peeta offered her a smile, but Katniss indiscreetly studied her.

Smirk in place. Amber eyes. Spiky hair.

She was face-to-face with Johanna Mason, District Seven Victor.

"Don't call me that," Lara muttered as Johanna skirted the table and hugged her from behind. "And don't call them that!" Lara smiled and accepted the embrace.

Jo ignored her last comment and placed a quick kiss on Lara's cheeks. Lara squeezed her forearm before turning to Katniss and Peeta.

"These is Katniss and Peeta Mellark."

"Yeah—" Johanna glanced at them while sitting next to Lara. "I have a television."

"Nice to meet you." Peeta stretched out his hand. Katniss rolled her eyes at how nice he had to be with everyone.

Johanna gave him an ironic thumb up. "So." She looked at Lara again, oblivious to Peeta's confused frown. "Finnick is in the central station. I thought he was waiting for me, but well, Annie is coming in an hour."

"I thought you'd come tomorrow …"

"Samite is coming tomorrow, and my train stops in Five. I'd rather come crawling to the Capitol instead of sharing an eight hour trip with her."

"Fair enough."

Katniss and Peeta had watched the exchange without background information. Lara cleared her throat.

"This is Johanna Mason, from Seven. She works with us, but won't be part of your training."

"Such a pity." Johanna winked at Peeta, and he blushed. Sex definitely wasn't taboo in that house.

"But others will assist your training," Lara completed.

"Who?" Katniss asked, but she didn't really want to know.

"Besides Finnick and me, you'll have lessons with Annie Cresta."

_The girl with absent, undertow eyes._

"Are you sure they don't fill in for my talent?" Johanna inquired of Lara, a playful smirk on her lips.

"And what's your talent?" Katniss retorted in a challenge.

Johanna locked her brown eyes with the younger woman, her tongue darting out to lick her full lips. The playfulness was gone, and her smile was pure lust.

"Virgins."

Katniss widened her eyes, unable to form a response. Johanna broke the silence that followed with a loud laugh.

"I'm kidding, brainless!"

Lara rolled her eyes, while all Katniss and Peeta could do was blush.

"I know you two crossed that bridge long ago," Jo completed. She stood up to leave the kitchen. "See you later."

Lara watched as she swiveled her hips, disappearing in the hall.

"That's not her talent, is it?" Katniss asked when Johanna was no longer within earshot.

"Yeah. It is," Lara responded, looking in the directing Johanna had left. "They say she's an excellent teacher."

Katniss wondered what the hell she could learn from someone like Johanna Mason.

* * *

"Your real training starts now." Lara's voice was clear and secure, echoing in the room. Katniss shivered, but didn't search for Peeta's hand. She didn't want to show weakness in front of her.

After a quiet morning, Katniss and Peeta were starting their first section of training with Lara. It could be anything.

A king-sized bed and a small nightstand were the only furnishings in the room. It wasn't used by any other victor; the purpose of the space was only for lessons.

Lara gestured to the bed, and Katniss moved to sit on it. Peeta, frowning and feeling self-conscious, started to head for the bed too, but Lara interrupted. "Not you."

He looked confused but obeyed.

Lara was shorter than him, and rested both her hands on his shoulders, standing behind him. "You are praised as a couple in the Capitol. Many clients will want your services as that," she started to say while her hands ran the extension of Peeta's back, massaging him. An uninvited, acid feeling grew in Katniss' stomach. "You should antecipate clients wanting you two at the same time." Her touch was stronger as she eased the tension in Peeta's neck, kneading his muscles with clever hands. He started to close his eyes under her touch, but found an angry gray pair of eyes staring back at him from the bed. He gulped.

"That includes not doing anything to stop someone else who touches your spouse." Lara hugged Peeta, snaking her hands to the front of him to take off his shirt. His heart accelerated, but he quietly let her bare his chest.

Katniss' toes curled and her fists balled the sheet. She wasn't expecting this to be so hard; it was almost unbearable to watch another woman touch her husband.

Only that she knew it was disgusting for Lara, too. Nobody wanted to train new recruits, to be responsible for crushing a child's innocence and the aim of their hate.

"You need to let your client do whatever he wants in your list of dos, like I already explained." Her hands were bigger than Katniss', palming Peeta's abs in a rougher way. He closed his eyes, ashamed to meet his wife's stare right in front of him. "What do you like, Peeta?" Lara whispered in his ear, her deep voice making his body tremble.

"I, I …"

"You need to talk to your clients. You do it so well on television that they'll want a piece of it in bed." Her fingers closed around his nipples, rippling a surprised gasp from him. His hands were palming his thigh, and he was afraid to turn to meet the honey eyes behind him. "Nipples. Classic. What else?" Lara descended her hands to the waistband of Peeta's pants, her fingers tracing the soft material. "Do you like to scream? To whisper lies about love?" She locked glances with Katniss then, meeting the indignation in her look. Katniss' cheeks flushed, and all she wanted was to jam an arrow between those yellow points staring back at her. "What does he like, Katniss?"

The direct question surprised her, and Katniss shook her head. She wasn't going to say anything. One of her "don'ts" would be "talk."

"Let's find out the hard way." She muttered her sentence while kissing Peeta's neck, starting where it met his shoulder and trailing up to his jaw. He whimpered, confused with the sensation. It felt good, but it wasn't Katniss. His body was starting to respond, but he didn't want to.

"What do you like?" Her tongue licked her way to his cheek, the warmth on his face heading down to his cock. "Bites? Caresses? We need to build a profile. And you need to talk." She finally turned to face him, capturing his parted lips in a languid, slow kiss.

He didn't respond at first, his hands clawing his trousers, but her lips insisted, prying his mouth open to welcome her tongue.

She suddenly bit him hard, muffling his shout of pain and surprise with a curse.

The next thing Peeta could see was a screaming Katniss pulling Lara off him, holding her shoulders from behind until both women hit the bed.

"Get off him!" Katniss yelled as Lara used her elbows to push her, trying to get free from her grasp.

"Fuck, girl!" Lara twisted her body to pull away, but Katniss insistently rushed for her neck, making the tangled mess of their bodies hit the ground in a mix of grunts and yells.

Peeta watched the two with wide eyes, unsure of what he should do. Help Katniss? Help Lara? Help himself, since his lip started to bleed?

Katniss cried as Lara shoved her down, grabbing her hair and pulling tight. "Calm down, okay!" Lara shouted at her, but Katniss was out of her mind, searching for the woman's face with deadly eyes.

"This is bullshit!"

Peeta finally intervened when Lara locked Katniss in a rear naked choke. She was a Victor for a reason.

"Stop!" He pushed Lara, freeing Katniss. The latter barely caught her breath before jumping on Lara again. "Katniss!" This time Peeta rushed to hold her down.

Lara stood up and swept the fresh blood from her lips. Her eyes were darker, and she pointed at them. Katniss' face was wet with tears, but they were more from anger than from pain. Peeta was shocked, but his grip around Katniss was strong.

"You don't know all the shit we did to help you two!" Lara shouted, anger clear in her voice. There was something else, too … was it frustration? "We're doing everything because we think you can inspire something! But I'm not sure anymore." She directed her finger to Katniss, whose breath was finally slowing down. Peeta didn't loosen his grasp on her, though. "And you. You've been acting like a little bitch since we came here. Do you think this is easy?" Lara gestured to the room. "Do you think this life is easy? You are facing this with a husband that actually loves you. You have mentors that care about you! But you're still making things difficult." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Try to calm down. I'll be back in an hour."

She kicked the door open and left them inside the room. Lara passed by an Avox and told him to lock the door. "Don't let them get out. If they request pills, give it to them." She was about to rush for her bedroom to clean up when she met Finnick in the hall. He raised one eyebrow.

"Are you—"

"Terrific." She sighed. "Finn," she said after combing her untangled hair with her fingers. "Do you really think they can do it? Do you think _she _can inspire anything?" Lara rested her head on the wall. "The only thing she's inspiring in me is rage."

"But Lara." Finnick stepped closer to her, offering a handkerchief to wipe her lips. "The only thing we want them to inspire is rage."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I referred to Machado de Assis' novel "Dom Casmurro." In this excellent novel from the 19th century, Machado de Assis describes one of his characters, Capitu, as a "girl with undertow eyes." Here is a passage for the ones that love realistic novels:

"Lovers' language, give me an exact and poetic comparison to say what those eyes of Capitu were like. No image comes to mind that doesn't offend against the rules of good style, to say what they were and what they did to me. Undertow eyes? Why not? Undertow. That's the notion that the new expression put in my head. They held some kind of mysterious, active fluid, a force that dragged one in, like the undertow of a wave retreating from the shore on stormy days. So as not to be dragged in, I held onto anything around them, her ears, her arms, her hair spread about her shoulders; but as soon as I returned to the pupils of her eyes again, the wave emerging from them grew towards me, deep and dark, threatening to envelop me, draw me in and swallow me up."  
― Machado de Assis, _Dom Casmurro_

I always thought Annie would have eyes like this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The sound of the running water distracted Katniss from her quiet sobs. She wrapped herself in the sweaty sheets, curling her naked body into the tiniest ball she could manage.

She hadn't thought it would be this hard.

Lara had returned one hour after their fight, exactly as she'd said. During that hour, Katniss tried to calm down, but she wasn't going to listen to any of Peeta's arguments. He said that they didn't have a choice, that they could be harmed if they didn't do it, and finally admitted that he didn't like any of that. Katniss ignored him until he mentioned Prim's name.

"When it's unbearable, remember that you are saving Prim,"he had said, which was a final word: Katniss would bear to watch another woman touching her husband as long as her sister was safe.

She wanted to say that Lara was horrible and even enjoyed exploring Peeta's body, but all she could find in those honey eyes was sadness. Sadness and determination; she wondered whom Lara was protecting.

When Peeta was ready for sex—and both Mellarks had accepted what was going to happen—Lara had pushed him to the bed, where he fell next to his seething wife.

"Finish him off," Lara had said while cleaning her lips. "Tomorrow you'll train with Annie." With that, she had left them alone.

Katniss heard Peeta turn off the faucet in the bathroom and hurriedly wiped her face. It was useless, though; her eyes were puffy and red.

He opened the bathroom door quietly, his heavy steps heading to the bed. "Hey," he whispered to her, his body weight sagging the mattress. "Let's go to my room. You can sleep there."

She didn't answer or move. Katniss heaved a curse when her sobs didn't subside. She felt humiliated, explored and used.

Though that was the point, wasn't it?

Peeta took a deep breath and stretched out his arms before picking up his petite wife. Her body seemed smaller and fragile. He made sure all her nudity was covered, adjusting the sheets to protect her trembling body.

She remained silent, not even feeling guilty at his suppressed gasps of pain due to his leg. He carried her to his room, relieved not to find anyone on their way.

As he tucked her in his bed, whispering words of love and reassurance, he only hoped she would fall asleep soon.

"You were brave today." He kissed the spot between her eyes, happy to see them fluttering. "I don't know how I'll make it."

If she heard him, she didn't reply.

Peeta waited until her breathing was even before leaving the room. He made sure he was a safe distance from his bedroom before punching the wall so hard he heard a bone snapping.

Good. Better now than with a client.

* * *

"You heard that?" Johanna said as a cracking noise and a muffled shout came from upstairs.

"Lara's training with the kids." Finnick didn't move his eyes from Annie as he answered. Annie was lost in her own world though, sewing a colorful cushion. An absent smile played on her lips while her fingers worked on the soft cloth.

"Right." Johanna pulled her feet up on the couch, tossing the financial report she was reading aside. It was always good to know how much you'd cost in a new season. Apparently, Katniss and Peeta's prices were one of the highest at their opening. "Do you know which products we won't be able to have in our opening season gala?" she asked absentmindedly.

Finnick diverted his attention from Annie, focusing on the sharp brown eyes looking back at him. She smiled before speaking.

"Practically no seafood and not even one new electrical component in the lighting." Johanna sat upright and her smile turned into a smirk. "Four and Three are reporting riots," she whispered, her voice lowering a tone.

Annie whimpered and threw the cushion at the floor, protecting her ears from anything Jo would say. Finnick scowled at Johanna before rushing to hug his lover.

"What? She knows about what is going on!" Johanna replied, unaffected by Annie's actions.

"That's not why she's doing that," Lara said as she entered the room in a rush, her hair still wet from a recent shower. "Finn, come with me. Jo, send someone to prepare the infirmary," she commanded, and both Finnick and Johanna knew not to question the authority in her voice.

"What happened?" Finnick asked, having given a peck on Annie's cheek before rushing to keep up with Lara's pace.

"They need to be in one piece to inspire anything."

He swallowed back his question as they reached the top of the stairs. Peeta was trembling hard and biting his tongue not to cry, curled up on the floor. The sight of his hand was nasty and nauseating.

"Holy shit." Finnick kneeled next to the boy, an Avox already cleaning the blood on the wall. "How many times did you punch the wall to do this?" He offered his shoulder to help Peeta up.

Lara locked her glance with Finnick. "Bring him to the infirmary. They can fix it in no time."

Peeta moaned and cursed, but didn't speak as Finnick helped him through the maze of corridors.

"There's an unsolved rage in you," Finn muttered as they passed a white, glassy door. The smell of chloride filled Peeta's nose. "And that's good," he added as two Avoxes supported Peeta by his shoulders. "Tomorrow we'll talk about how this can be good for you. Learn to use this rage, Peet," he said softly as the boy was being carried away to the operation room.

"He's definitely not a weakling."

* * *

Katniss didn't know for how long she had slept, only that it was already morning by the time she exited Peeta's room. He hadn't come back during the night.

The voices in the kitchen were quiet and secretive. Katniss raised her eyebrow in question, but Peeta avoided her eyes.

Finnick cleared his throat and smiled. "Good morning, Katniss. I hope you had an excellent night of sleep."

His smile seemed unnatural—too fake, even for him. She managed to curve her lips before sitting next to Peeta.

"Are you okay?" She searched for his eyes again, but he kept looking at a cold toast on his plate.

"I'm fine." He took a deep breath and met her glance. "Really. I'm fine."

"Today you'll train with Annie," Finnick interrupted whatever Katniss was going to reply. "Your session, Katniss, starts as soon as you finish your breakfast. I'll guide you."

She nodded in his direction and waited for an Avox to serve her breakfast.

She didn't notice the new baby-skin on Peeta's right hand.

The room was bright white, forcing Katniss to squint her eyes to try to figure out the real size of the salon. Everything was spotless, and there was no furniture, just a couple of pale cushions in the center. Quiet reigned, and there was no connection to the outside world besides the door closing behind her. She rubbed her eyes under the glow of the fluorescent lights, finally focusing on the lonely figure sitting on one cushion. When Katniss got used to it, the serenity and emptiness gave her a nostalgic sensation of peace … and so did Annie Cresta, with her legs crossed and eyes closed, apparently not even aware of Katniss' presence.

Annie hummed a tuneless lullaby as Katniss strolled in her direction.

"I'm Kat—"

"Sit," Annie said with her eyes still closed, her lullaby dying in her throat. Her voice was serene, absent. Untangled hair and slack pants completed her appearance, and she seemed extremely comfortable. Katniss obeyed and sat opposite from Annie. "Take off your shoes."

The younger victor arched an eyebrow, but did it anyway.

Annie opened her eyes and pierced Katniss with two focused green points. It was a bit unsettling to see her so focused like that; her eyes normally seemed to divagate.

"Our mind is our strongest weapon," she started to say, her eyes never leaving Katniss'. "It's also our strongest shield. I'm going to teach you meditation techniques to escape from reality, to create your own world and ignore everything around you."

_She's nuts, _Katniss thought.

Annie's lips turned upright discreetly, as if she had heard Katniss' thought—and had agreed with her.

"This is an art, and requires finesse and training. But I'm sure you'll understand it quickly."

"Does it work better than drugs?"

Annie smiled broadly then. "I've been in this life for years. I couldn't point out any client even if my life depended on that."

Katniss frowned, not really understanding what she meant.

"They didn't happen in my mind," Annie added, her eyes losing the focus from before. "Just with my body."

Silence once more fell between them. Slowly, Annie closed her eyes.

Katniss looked around the room and back to Annie, waiting for any kind of sign, but all she could find was endless white. Shrugging, she felt her eyelids getting heavier, blocking the white away with a veil of blackness.

"Welcome to my world, Katniss Everdeen." Annie's voice was deeper; it penetrated Katniss' mind subtly, running down her spine and making her shiver. "You're on a beach, a sunny coast in Four. The sand is hot, so you dig your toes in it until it's cooler."

The shiver was gone and Katniss could feel the tingling of the sand under her feet.

"The grains grasp your feet and make you smile."

Katniss surprised herself when she felt her lips curving up. The rest of Annie's words flowed easily, and Katniss could picture the coast better at each new description.

"In the sea—a deep blue sea—there's a red boat with white sails. It goes fast through the wind, cutting the waves like a sharp knife. The drops shine like crystals along the scarlet hull. Can you see it, Katniss?"

She … she could. There was something in Annie's voice, something in her tone that made Katniss feel the sun, grasp the sand, and see the boat.

"Yes," she answered calmly.

"What's the boat's name?"

"What?" Katniss almost opened her eyes in doubt.

"Can you see the name of the boat?" Annie repeated. "Take a deep breath and read it."

_I'm nuts too._

"It's …" Katniss bit her lip, a name suddenly coloring her boat's hull. "It's _Necklace of Hope_."

"Beautiful name. Now, tell me about your woods."

Katniss opened her eyes and suddenly the beach, the sun, and the boat were gone. Annie was in the same position from before, unmoved, eyes still closed. She didn't flinch at her hesitation, patiently waiting for Katniss to continue.

"Describe them to me," Annie added. Katniss closed her eyes again, forcing her mind to travel miles from there, to go east and land in her woods. She took a deep, calming breath.

"The breeze is soft and pure. Your lungs feel lighter when you breathe that air," Katniss started, her lungs literally feeling warmer. "The smell of pine and leaves fill the air. And game, lots of game. Everything is full and alive." In the peace and blackness, Katniss could picture her woods—her home—perfectly.

Annie's eyes opened and revealed a focused, sharp glance. For once, she looked like Annie Cresta, Victor of the 70th Hunger Games. She watched Katniss for a moment before delicately, light as a feather, starting to crawl towards her.

She was a hunter, and Katniss was an unprepared prey.

"There are pine trees, oak trees, willows … all of them are fresh from the spring. There's a lake to fish and swim, and the rivers can guide you."

"Don't stop."

Katniss startled at the closeness of Annie's voice, feeling her breath next to her neck. She opened her eyes to find the other victor's face mere inches from her.

"Don't stop, Katniss. You are in your woods, not here."

Katniss' heart accelerated and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You're not here," Annie repeated with an apologetic smile. She carefully touched the girl's hand. "Tell me more about your woods."

Katniss felt her hand trembling against Annie's warm palm, but tried to remain calm and think about her woods again. "There's a … there's a rock that I like to go to. Edible berries grow around it, and they are very sweet." The white room disappeared under her eyelids, and her heart slowed down at the thought of home. "Mockingjays fly in the sky, singing tunes they learned from me. In the summer, they—_ah!_" Her breath caught in her throat at the sudden touch of Annie's lips on her neck, right under her ear. Her first impulse was to push away. What stopped her were Peeta's words echoing in her mind: _remember that you are saving Prim._

_ I'm not here; not here._

"In the summer you can find—find wild berries, but they are not so sweet …"

Annie's lips explored her neck, a continuous massage heading to her cheek. Katniss didn't turn to face her; she forced her thoughts back to her woods, her berries, anywhere but the tongue insisting to reach her lips.

"They are still good, even though they're not so sweet," Katniss continued to say, closing her eyes to choke back fresh tears. "But—"

The lips found their goal, meeting Katniss in a simple kiss. The feeling was like any other kiss, though Annie's lips were smoother than Peeta's. Katniss didn't respond at first, letting the other victor's mouth gently mold her own.

"Exactly like that," Annie said when they parted. "It could be good, but not sweet."

Katniss frowned in question, but didn't have a chance to say anything before Annie's lips found hers again. They were more insistent this time, coercing Katniss to welcome her tongue.

"The woods," Annie murmured as she leaned closer to Katniss' ear, her hand searching the rim of the younger woman's blouse. "Keep talking about the woods."

As Annie slowly pulled her blouse off, Katniss pushed her head back, exposing her chest and neck. Once more closing her eyes, she was back in her woods.

"Squirrels are normally caught by snares, but I like to use my bow. They are fast, but can be noisy. I don't—" She hissed quietly when Annie unbuttoned her bra. Katniss clenched her eyes shut more forcefully, feeling her cheeks burning. She wouldn't break; she couldn't. _You are saving Prim_.

"I like to hit them in the eye …" Her voice was so small that she hissed again from sounding so young and scared.

Wet lips found her chest and she closed her hands in fists, her nails digging into her flesh.

"It's a clean kill when I hit the eye."

Annie guided her to lie on her back, resting her head on the cushion. Katniss remembered the first day she killed a squirrel. A messy hit on the legs. Though the poor thing didn't have a chance to agonize; her father was there to finish the job and—

No. Her father's memory didn't belong to a place or situation like this.

_I'm not here._

She ignored her pants being pulled down and the hand running the extension of her thigh; she ignored the flushed lips over her bare chest and the gentle massage on her hips as she parted her legs.

Katniss ignored everything and lived a quiet, uneventful morning in her woods.

She wasn't there.

* * *

Her dress was a vivid scarlet enhancing every curve Katniss had. It was clearly a Cinna piece, with small flowers following her cleavage and matching the single red rose in her hair. The flower was the same hue as Peeta's tie, which was a red line lost in his gray suit. His suit was skin-tight, showing his muscles in a sensual way. All the victors were wearing sexy garments in the opening season gala.

The training week had passed in a blur—a fierce, strong and hurtful blur. But they'd learned; Katniss and Peeta had learned a little bit more what was to be expected from them in those nights of work. They had a talent, a voice, and a fake smile. They were perfect for this business.

"Samite, District Five," Peeta whispered as he handed another champagne flute to Katniss. They were being exhibited for potential clients in the Talent Room, following Lara and Finnick as they introduced the new additions of the Escort Victors to everyone in the party. She needed a drink.

Accepting the glass, Katniss glanced in the direction of the woman Peeta was talking about. "What about her?"

"She hates me," he answered with a plastered smile while a woman in her mid-fifties shook his hand and commented about his impeccable hair. Katniss waited for her to walk away before looking at Samite again.

The victor from Five was wearing a dark green dress that barely covered her thighs; Johanna was laughing next to her, with her transparent blouse covering nothing of her peaked nipples.

"Why do you say that?"

"She can't look me in the eye and hasn't said a word to me. And it makes me think"—Peeta passed his hand through his hair, nodding at Finn when he backed them to meet a couple talking to Lara—"that Finnick is right. Knowing what people think of you can be your best defense. Knowledge is power."

Two days before, in one of the training sessions with Finnick, he had told them that he never asked for money as payment for his work. He asked for secrets. "Pillows talk," Finnick had said. "And they make the best revelations."

"And that's Enobaria." Peeta pointed to a woman with golden teeth as they approached Lara. "She hates everyone."

"How do you know so much about the other victors?" Katniss tried to adjust her dress, but it was so tight that it'd never be comfortable.

"I … kind of researched everyone." Before they reached Lara, he offered Katniss an apologetic smile. "Finnick is right, Katniss. Knowledge is power."

She was going to answer him, but Lara spoke first, introducing them to a couple of clients.

At the other side of the salon, Samite and Johanna mastered their fake smiles while whispering.

"She doesn't know who her first client is, does she?" Samite asked, adjusting her dress to show a little bit more of her breasts.

Johanna glanced around the room. A fat, short man approached them.

"Miss Mason. Samite," the gentleman said, winking at the red-head. "It was such a pity that you weren't in the Capitol for the last summer season."

"I was a mentor in the last Hunger Games," Samite answered. Johanna had to use all her inner strength not to snort. Samite managed to get the funniest clients. This man was ridiculously fat and his mustache made a turn up that looked like a cat's tail. "But I'm here for another season, Mr. Grey."

"Good. Now excuse me." Both women made a small curtsy and watched the man walk away.

"Your clients are bizarre," Johanna said once they were alone again.

"Look who's talking … but forget about that. Is dear Mrs. Mellark aware of her first job tomorrow?"

"She'll be in due time …" Johanna looked behind Samite to make sure nobody was in earshot.

Samite's face fell as she realized what Johanna had just said.

"You mean they don't know?" She rushed for Jo's hand, accidently dropping her glass on the floor. Their act attracted the curiosity of a few guests, but they smiled and laughed, waving the worried look from Finnick away. When they weren't in the center of the attention anymore, Samite grasped Johanna's hand again. "Seriously, Johanna. Do they know?"

Johanna shook her hand away, diverting her eyes to land on Katniss and Peeta, who were animatedly talking to the cat-mustache man.

"No."

"Fuck, Jo. I haven't talked to them since I got here, but you should. Or Finn, Lara, whatever. We can't use them—"

"We're not going to use them," Johanna hissed.

"Yeah. Maybe the term is 'coerce'."

"Shut up. You know what we're doing."

They each plastered on a smile for the umpteenth time as another client, this time slim and tall, waved at them.

"I know, Jo. The question is—" Samite inclined her head toward the Mellarks—"Do they?"

"She's … difficult to handle," Jo mumbled as she grabbed another glass from a waiter passing by.

"That's no excuse to not tell them the truth."

"Her first client is tomorrow." Johanna started to walk away from Samite. "She'll know by then, and will understand and cooperate."

Samite watched her go and lavishly licked her lips. "Don't be so sure about that."

* * *

They had been driving around the city for almost an hour. The car crossed the city, from one suburban area to the opposite one. Katniss watched the colorful buildings shrinking in her window view, and noticed they vanished after the car passed through a tunnel. Houses, mansions really, started to occupy the scenery instead of the extravagant architecture of the City Center.

After the gala, she had been told that her first client would be the next day. Her debut as Escort needed to be as soon as possible, because her—and Peeta's—client list was huge.

She kept staring as the mansions started to fade and more trees occupied the view from her window. She had given up asking the driver where they were heading.

The car pulled over next to a line of trees that revealed an impressive house behind. The driver opened the door for her, and the chilly breeze made her exposed legs shake lightly. An attendant approached her in a white tuxedo. She recognized the Avox style, nodding as he offered his arm to usher her to the front door.

Guided by different Avoxes, including one massive man that she feared would be part of anything she'd have to do that night, she finally reached what was supposed to be her destination. The Avox knocked on the door but didn't wait for a response, leaving her standing alone.

"Come in," called a male voice from inside. The sound traveled the whole extension of her back, turning her stomach into knots.

Katniss took a deep breath and opened the door.

The room was beige and had details in deep violet, mixing with indigo in the corners. Paintings framed in gold filled the walls, and the dark furniture had the same bright golden color in the details.

A massive, grey-haired man sat at the table next to the bed, more interested in his papers than Katniss. He barely looked up at her when he waved at the chair opposite of him. Warily, Katniss obeyed and joined him at the table.

She watched his lips moving silently as he finished reading a letter. He took off his glasses and looked at Katniss for the first time.

"Miss Everdeen. It's a pleasure to finally meet you!" he said in a joyful tone, and Katniss forced herself to smile, though the result wasn't very satisfactory.

Katniss studied him, noticing his dark-blue suit that matched his walls—at least he was wearing something.

At her lack of response, the man spoke again. "Sorry I was so rude! I'm Plutarch Heavensbee." This time he stretched out his hand.

When her skin touched his, she remembered; her arrow flying in the direction of the Gamemakers and a man falling in the punch bowl.

She was face-to-face with that man.

A fucking Gamemaker; that was her first client.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Heavensbee." She surprised herself at how easily the words fled her mouth. Maybe Finnick and Lara had done a good job training her.

"Oh please, call me Plutarch," he continued animatedly. "Sorry for all the driving around the City. I needed to talk to you somewhere more … private." The way he smiled at her made her feel acid in the back of her throat. "And most of my properties are in the middle of the City. No privacy there." He folded the paper he was holding and stood up. Katniss was going to follow him, but he politely signaled her to remain seated. He started to walk around the table, closer to her chair. She swallowed drily.

"Miss Everdeen, I hope you are having a pleasant time here in the Capitol. We can offer better conditions than most of Districts." He rested a hand on the back of her chair, dangerously close to her neck, but not touching it. "I know a few victors myself, so I can understand how hard the first year after the Games can be."

Why was he calling her by her birth name? And who did he think he was? His job consisted of staying behind bulletproof glass, torturing kids, watching them kill each other. Then he had sex with the kid that survived. He didn't understand; he was sick.

His hand finally touched her neck. It was cold, but soft.

"I expect your discretion about anything that is going to happen in this room, Miss Everdeen." He started to kneel behind her chair, his hot breath replacing his hand. "Because I might surprise you."

She closed her eyes and bit her lips. Her mind started to travel to District Twelve, far from the smell of Plutarch's cologne.

_My body may feel it, but not my mind, _she thought.

She was so wrong.

* * *

Peeta didn't knock on her door. He opened and closed it silently, his heavy steps echoing in the room as he made his way to Katniss' bed.

Her sniff gave her away; he knew she wasn't sleeping.

The clock marked 4:30 am. She had gotten back to the House half an hour before, heading straight to her bedroom. Peeta waited until she had taken a bath to enter her room.

"Katniss?" he whispered, touching her shoulder lightly. Her hair was wet from the shower, damping her pajamas' back. "Katniss, talk to me."

"Did you know about it?" She wiped her face before turning to him. Her eyes weren't wet from shame or fear. It was anger, pure and raw anger in that steely glance piercing Peeta.

He couldn't maintain her stare; he looked aside, searching for any excuse in the dark room, but both of them knew there wasn't any.

"I, I …" he stuttered, but stopped himself before he could lie. Peeta heaved a sigh. "Finnick told me."

"When?" The fierce eyes were still there, demanding the truth.

"A few days ago," he confessed, unable to look at her.

Katniss pushed new tears back as she turned on the bed, her back to Peeta. "Get out of here."

"Katniss …"

"You should've told me."

"Finnick said that—"

"I don't care what Finnick said." She turned to face him again. The anger had subdued a little, giving space to hurt as her lips trembled. "I'm your wife. You have to be honest with me."

"But what do you think—"

"Get out."

She couldn't keep staring at him. He mumbled "I'm sorry" and left, closing the door as quietly as he had opened it.

* * *

"What do you want with us?" Katniss hissed at Lara, who was calmly sipping her coffee. Lara put her mug back on the table. Before Katniss could react, Lara grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the kitchen—and out of Gloss and Enobaria's sight.

"What the—"

"In my bedroom. Now," Lara whispered, releasing Katniss and heading for the stairs. The younger woman couldn't do anything but follow her.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Katniss started to ask for explanations, but Lara cut her off.

"I see you've talked to Plutarch," she said while locking her bedroom door. "I hope he convinced you to participate."

"Why us? Why do you want us?"

"Actually it's more about you, but since Peeta is your husband, he's on the same page here." Lara pointed at her desk. She sat at her chair and offered one to Katniss.

"I'd rather stand."

"Suit yourself." The District Ten Victor took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. This was going to be a long morning, and her night hadn't been easy. "Miss Everdeen," she started. The fact that she called Katniss by her maiden name didn't pass unnoticed. "We are having the chance to do something new here, something unthinkable."

"Plutarch said—"

"He told you what we plan to do with you. Not why."

Katniss gave up her stubbornness and sat across from Lara.

"In the districts," Lara continued to explain, "the act you pulled in your Games, when you challenged the Gamemakers with the berries, is having an astronomical response. It's like Panem is finally awake. Every child, woman and man watched a sixteen-year-old girl challenge an empire. So, why couldn't they?"

Katniss frowned. She had never thought her attitude would have those consequences.

"Katniss, don't you see? Your image, your face, can be used to awaken Panem's potential!"

"Potential for what?"

Lara teared up a bit, release and fear filling her heart at the same time.

"For a rebellion. We, Victors, are already praised in the districts and we've been building the right connections in the Capitol for years. We can do it right this time. You, your image, your _mockingjay _is the symbol we were waiting for. As long as you play it right, we can use _you_ to unite the districts against the Capitol." She looked around her shoulders to make sure they were alone. Lara had replaced the microphones in her room long ago. The House was monitored, but her room was a safe place to talk.

"What makes you think I'd do that? I already told Plutarch that I'm not doing it. I can't risk my family like this."

"Please, Katniss, don't be so stupid."

Katniss arched an eyebrow.

"Your family has been as good as dead since you pulled those berries out. It's just a matter of time. At the smallest mistake, that you'll undoubtedly commit, they will crush them like flies." Her tone softened and she met Katniss' eyes. "We're offering you a chance to really save them. To free them."

"Why did you tell Peeta and not me?"

"I believe you gave quite a show when Plutarch told you everything."

Yes, she had. Katniss had yelled and punched him in the face. Though it didn't call any attention; he was having a session with an Escort. Anything could happen in those.

"We couldn't have something like that here," Lara explained. "You need to be discreet. We're preparing everything, and we'll let you know in the right time."

"When?"

"Before the next Games, in which you two will be mentors for sure. It's the Quarter Quell. Whatever they are preparing for it, we're going to overcome. After the Games, we're making the attack. The Capitol will be distracted, and the Victor Ceremony will turn into the start of the Rebellion."

"How are you going to do that? Tell me now."

Lara released a resigned nod. "Don't trust the carriers. Finnick, Annie, Johanna, Samite and me. These are the only ones aware of it in the House. If any of the others find out, he or she will report us, and then you know what happens."

Katniss wasn't willing to be friends with any other victor, anyway.

"Do your job normally. Get to know your clients. Extract most all the information you can. Don't call your family. We have this tendency to trust family, but if they discover anything, they are in danger. Do you understand?"

Katniss nodded. Her mind was rushing and she was starting to feel sick. It was too much information to absorb; her reality was changing from a fancy whore to a rebel spy.

"Katniss." Lara reached for her hands, but Katniss retracted them. "This is huge. We've been expecting a chance like this for years. Please say you'll cooperate."

"I,I—"

"Go rest," Lara interrupted her. "We can talk later."

Katniss nodded and left the room. She had a lot to think about.

Lara stood quietly in her room, analyzing Katniss' reaction. Giving up, she decided to make a phone call. She'd have to find a telephone that wasn't bugged. She thought about looking for her agenda, but that wouldn't be necessary.

Lara knew District Twelve's Telephone Station number by heart.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

She looked disgusting. Katniss didn't have another adjective to describe her outfit; she was, in her own words, ultimately disgusting. Black leather didn't suit her features, and her body felt stiff under the rigid fabric.

"You look great." Johanna's smirk confirmed everything: she looked awful.

"And you look ridiculous," Katniss bickered, sliding over further in the car to stay as far away as possible from Johanna.

"They like to see me in white." Johanna smoothed her thin, pearly dress. "Something about the talent."

Katniss snorted and looked out the window, watching the landscape shift as they moved. They would work at the City Center tonight.

It wasn't the fact that she'd work with Johanna that was making her heart beat faster; it wasn't the idea of another night in a stranger's bed that was nagging her heart. Katniss knew that eventually she'd have to deal with the newfound aspects of her life and her marriage.

And, well … Peeta.

They lived in a thirty-room house, an excellent place to avoid someone. Katniss found it easy not to talk to Peeta for the weeks that followed their arguing. She always locked her door and ignored the knocks in the middle of the night. After the first few days, Peeta gave up. If she wasn't ready to talk, he wouldn't even try to ask for forgiveness. Luckily for her, they hadn't been assigned to work together in those days; and sadly, when she got home from those despicable moments, her bed was always cold and empty.

The other victors noticed the icy relation between the Mellarks, and the questions and secrets about the so-called revolution had subsided. Katniss wasn't sure, but she hoped they were respecting her timing. Their plan was to use her face as a symbol; they needed her to agree with them. And how would they do it if she was mentally exhausted?

"I loved what Lara did to your talent." Johanna's words brought her back to the reality. "I didn't know you were such a wrestler."

"Shut up," Katniss mumbled, idly adjusting her thigh garment. After her fight with Lara and her other outbursts, it was decided that Katniss would make a fantastic piece for rough sex. Curiously, most of clients wanted to feel the rage of the girl on fire.

"We need to talk to you." Johanna moved closer to her on the backseat of the luxurious car.

Katniss still needed to give a decisive answer and position about her participation in the conspiratorial plot to defeat the Capitol. It all seemed unreal in her mind, and she didn't want to talk about it, principally because it reminded her of Peeta.

"Why don't you leave me alone?" She rested her forehead on the window, closing her eyes. The makeup was so thick that her eyelashes tickled her cheeks.

"It's not about … you know," Johanna started, taking a deep breath. "It's about Peeta."

Katniss opened her eyes at the sound of her husband's name. Her face flushed in a mix of shame and anger.

"You don't—"

"I'm just saying," Johanna cut off what would be Katniss' automatic defense, "That he had his reasons not to tell you. Maybe you should think about his point of view."

When Katniss looked at Johanna, she was staring out her own window, her fist supporting her head. Johanna looked almost longingly.

"Don't take you family for granted. You never know when they are going to be taken away."

They remained silent for a moment, just the sounds of the car and the street humming around them.

"If you don't have anyone to protect, why do you do this?" Katniss asked.

Johanna took a deep breath, meeting Katniss' eyes with a pool of amber sadness. "You don't have to share the same blood to love someone, right?" Her smirk was back, but it wasn't fooling anyone.

"But the rebellion …"

"Everything that is fucked up in my life is due to the Capitol. Not just me, but everyone in Panem. If I had the chance to change it, why would I be selfish enough to _maybe_ protect someone I love? I play their game, Mockingjay." Katniss rolled her eyes at the recent nickname Johanna had given her. "And the way to beat them is to play it better than they do."

The vehicle slowed down as they approached a bright green building.

"You know how it works, right?" Johanna grasped her arm before they got out of the car.

"Yeah," Katniss answered, her heart accelerating. "I get the father, you get the son."

"Yep. But—" Johanna released her arm and offered her the kindest smile Katniss had ever seen on Jo's lips. "I know Mr. Grey. Do everything as I say and you won't get hurt."

Katniss had been with a few clients but had never gotten hurt—on the contrary, she was the one normally hurting them.

"Do you understand?" Johanna whispered as they stepped on the sidewalk.

Katniss nodded.

Maybe she had a thing or two to learn from Johanna Mason.

* * *

Summer was creeping up, quenching spring's colors with its heat. District Twelve's production was in full scale, though it was never a reason to celebrate. With the summer, the Hunger Games came along, and it mostly meant death to that District.

The path from the Victor's Village to the train station was long and hot, two things that Haymitch hated. He mumbled and dragged his suitcase as his shirt soaked up in sweat.

Like any other Twelve resident, he would do anything not to go to the Capitol. The call he had received changed his plans.

Haymitch couldn't say he was surprised; of course Katniss would be someone hard to bend. He just thought that Lara would be persuasive enough to deal with it without his help. No such luck; because of the girl's stubbornness, he'd have to go to the Capitol a few weeks before planned and help the herd of victors to convince a teenager to cooperate in a master plan to break the Capitol.

He swore as he took off his suit, looking for a bench at the platform.

"Come here, sweetie! You can't get close to the trails!" a woman called, and before Haymitch could react, a little girl ran passed him, almost losing her balance as she tried to jump his suitcase on the floor. He made his best attempt to smile as the mother of the child called the girl again, and she just continued to run faster. _Speaking of stubborn girls …_

"Don't worry, mom! I'm like Katniss!" the girl squealed in a high-pitched voice, ignoring her mother's pleas.

Haymitch's smile grew wider. He watched the girl run from her mother, playing around the other workers close to the post office next to the station. The mail didn't get to the Seam which made the families take regular trips to the post. The little girl had dark hair and gray eyes, the mark of the Seam. Her hair was braided and her smile was fierce, exactly like Katniss'.

Maybe like Katniss used to be.

Still, that Katniss was an inspiration to the districts, to Panem, to girls like that.

The question was: if this was so clear to the victors, why wouldn't it be to President Snow? Even worse: what was he preparing to do to quench it?

Louder than the girl's laugh, Haymitch heard the train's whistle.

With the summer came the Hunger Games. They would soon find out.

* * *

Even if it wasn't for the loud guffaw, Katniss would have known it was Haymitch by the reek of cheap liquor. She entered the kitchen already frowning, her former mentor laughing along with Finnick at the table.

"Well, well, well … Mrs. Mellark." Haymitch winked at her.

"What are you doing here?" She didn't have time for useless small talk. There must be a reason for Haymitch to be in the Capitol.

"Nice see you again, too." He smiled politely, taking a sip from his coffee mug. Katniss was sure whatever was in his cup wasn't caffeine.

"I'll let you two talk." Finnick waved at Katniss, leaving the kitchen for the Twelve residents.

"Why are you here?" Katniss repeated the question, not a single trace of affection in her voice.

"The Quarter Quell is coming," Haymitch said while filling up his mug once more. "They needed me for interviews and photo sessions." He winked at her then.

"But why—"

"Why don't we go upstairs? I don't remember anything about this house … do you remember where Lara's room is?"

The mention of Lara's name was enough for Katniss fully understand what was going on. Haymitch knew.

Lara's room was empty and unlocked. Haymitch made himself at home, sitting on her desk and nodding to Katniss close the door behind her.

"How are you?" Haymitch's voice lacked the early playfulness, showing Katniss he wasn't acting anymore.

"As fine as I can be …" She passed her hand over her braid. She hadn't had a client in a few days and had barely left her room. The note from Finnick to meet her in the kitchen had been the only reason for her to get off the bed.

"How's Peeta?" Haymitch discarded his cup on the table, searching for a flask in his suit.

"I … I don't know." She couldn't meet his eyes at the admission.

"I see."

She sat on the bed not actually looking at him. Katniss waited until Haymitch gulped his flask.

"Lara called me," he started, hoping his grimace at the mention of Lara's name would pass as a reaction to his booze. "And told me you're aware of our plans."

"No way you're in this too!" She glanced up at him, anger molding her expression. "Why is no one honest with me?"

"Just listen to me." He took a deep breath. "We're playing with fire here. Everybody is in danger. Everyone close to you is in Snow's aim. Things in Twelve have been … unstable lately."

"What do you mean?" Her anger dissipated as worry took over. "Is Prim alright?"

"She's fine, and so is your mother. But the boy … the other one—"

"Gale?" Her voice was suddenly small, scared. "What did—"

"He's alive, but barely. They arrested him for poaching a few weeks ago. But the point is that he wasn't the target; you were."

Katniss felt dizzy. The penalty for poaching was …

"Did they … whip him?"

Haymitch moved to sit next to her on the bed. "He's fine, really. I personally helped him. They were waiting for you to come back for the couple weeks off before the Games to tell you."

Her breathing started to feel heavy, labored. If they could reach Gale this easily, Primrose and her mother weren't safe.

"Haymitch I, I—"

"Look at me." He touched her shoulder, locking his dull gray eyes with hers. "That's what they do, Katniss. They destroy everything you love, and that's exactly why you need to help us."

She pushed him away, jumping off the bed.

"No, Haymitch! This is just a message that if I do anything, they'll kill all my family. I just can't—"

The door opened and Lara stepped in to the room, startling at the sight of Katniss—and principally Haymitch—in her room.

"Oh," Lara said, looking at Haymitch, Katniss and back at Haymitch. "Maybe I should come back later."

"Lara, I—" Haymitch tried to get up from the bed hurriedly but almost lost his balance.

Lara snorted. "Later, Haymitch."

Haymitch swore as Lara closed the door.

Katniss' frustration turned into mild curiosity. "What is going on between you two?" she asked.

"Nothing. The question is what went on. Katniss, please think about it. Your friend is alive, but they won't hesitate to kill him."

Katniss felt her eyes watering, but she wasn't going to cry in front of him. She had done enough crying for this week. "Forget it, Haymitch." She turned to exit the room. "I'm out."

* * *

"Mister President? You have a phone call. Red line."

Coriolanus Snow looked up from his flower to the attendant speaking. He nodded and waved the man out of his garden. Wiping the dirt from his hands, Coriolanus headed for his office, not far away from his private greenhouse.

"Yes?" He answered the phone.

_"Haymitch, their mentor from Twelve, is here to try to persuade her. Just as you said,"_ a womanly voice answered him.

"Was he successful?" His tone was cold and direct.

_"I don't know yet. Do you want me to do anything about it?"_

"I already have my counterplans."

_"About the date,"_ the voice continued on the other line. _"Their plan is to attack after the Quarter Quell."_

Snow smiled broadly to himself. It was almost too easy sometimes.

"So let's make the Quarter Quell a reason for them to change their minds. I'll expect your next phone call in a couple of days."

_"Thank you, sir."_

Snow sat on his chair as he hung up the phone. He wondered about this new information, though Haymitch wasn't the real problem. Katniss Everdeen was a difficult girl to handle, but Snow had been dealing with arrogant victors for years. He knew exactly how to quiet them.

* * *

"Hey."

Johanna's voice startled Lara, who had just hung up the phone. She disguised her expression and turned to meet Johanna's embrace.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Johanna apologized, releasing Lara enough to look in her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Lara used her thumb to massage Jo's wrist. "I was just calling home."

"And how is he?" Johanna passed a hand through Lara's auburn hair.

"He's great," Lara answered, moving to sit on the office's couch.

Johanna followed her, biting her lips. "Can I ask you why Haymitch is here?"

Lara laughed half-heartily, closing her eyes for a moment. "He's here to talk to Katniss. They have some kind of … complicated bond, I guess."

"It happens between mentors and tributes." Johanna moved closer to touch Lara's shoulder, pulling her lightly to sit on her lap. "And victors can form all kind of bonds, you know?"

Opening her eyes, Lara met Johanna's smirk and vivid glance.

"Are you going to work tonight?" Johanna ran her finger across Lara's pale cheek.

"No. You?"

Johanna shook her head, her smirk widening as she leaned down to meet Lara's lips in a gentle, soft kiss.

"No, but I do have plans."

Lara laughed quietly and captured Johanna's lips in a deeper kiss.

* * *

"I finally found you!" Finnick huffed as he entered the living room where Johanna and Lara were sharing a bowl of strawberries. "I left endless notes in your room! Where the hell were you?" Finn continued, ignoring Johanna's frown and grabbing Lara by the hand.

"I, I didn't spend the night in my room," Lara answered, blushing lightly as she sat upright, ready to follow Finnick. "What is going on?" she inquired.

"We have a Mr. X situation," he answered.

Both Johanna and Lara felt a cold shiver running their bodies at the sound of that name.

Lara's light expression from the time she was sharing with Johanna vanished, and she got up from the couch, following Finnick to the main office of the House.

Johanna touched the warm spot where Lara had been sitting and exhaled. "A good day to you, too." Johanna muttered, though Lara wasn't near enough to hear it.

Finnick closed the office's door after they had entered.

"Who?" Lara didn't meet his eyes, fearing his answer.

"Who do you think? Katniss! He was very clear and specific he wanted a session with Katniss Mellark." Finnick's hair was messy from the countless times he had passed his hands through it. "He has the power to definitely scare her off and all our plans are over."

"She's not ready for a client like him. He'll hurt her."

"That's why this is a situation, Lara!" Finnick pulled a small rope from his pocket, messing with the tight knot on it. "I don't know why suddenly he wants a new victor! He always asked for more experienced ones …"

"Did you offer anyone else?"

"Of course! You, me, Jo, Samite, Enobaria … even Annie! He's sure he wants Mellark!" The rope escaped from Finn's hands and he cursed, kneeling to get it from the floor.

"That's settled then." Lara kneeled to hold Finnick's hand and look into his eyes. "Let's give him a Mellark."

* * *

The red lights from her bedside clock stared back at her every five minutes. Katniss tried to turn and embrace sleep, but it was useless. Johanna's words from before kept haunting her, along with Haymitch's. Was she overreacting about Peeta? Was he right in not telling her? Maybe Lara or Finnick asked him to keep the secret until she was ready. She didn't even know if she would ever be ready to accept this.

Blowing her hair from her face, Katniss swung her legs off the bed. It was four in the morning and sleep still hadn't caught her. She passed her hand over the mattress, the cold material making her shiver.

She missed Peeta.

Forced or not, he had been the one next to her in this cruel endeavor. Even when she tried to avoid him, she knew he was close for support. It stressed her sometimes; how he could be willing to help her when she was being awful to him. Peeta had serious issues with female figures.

The wood floor was cold, but she didn't bother to put on shoes. Wrapping herself in a robe to cover her nightgown, Katniss wandered in the hall, unsure if she should head to Peeta's room or just parade the ghostly corridors.

At night, when most of the residents were working or resting, the huge house had an eerie sensation, like an evil presence floating in every detail, painting and window. It was a moonless night, adding to the feeling that something was extremely wrong.

Her feet stubbornly headed to Peeta's corridor. Katniss' heart accelerated; she bit her lip and touched the metal doorknob, twisting it lightly. It gave away easily.

"Peeta?" She knew her voice would be filled with regret and shame, but she didn't care. They needed to talk.

A chilly breeze—unexpected in this season—entered from the open window. She smiled to herself, remembering how Peeta liked the window open to sleep. Her smile faded as she saw the empty bed.

If he was working or just walking around the house, she didn't know. Though her doubt didn't have a chance to develop.

Finnick entered the room in a hurry, barely noticing her while he opened Peeta's wardrobe.

"Finnick?"

He was pale and looked slightly frightened. The fact that he didn't make a smart reply to her presence in Peeta's room was also a sign that something was wrong.

"What is going on?" Katniss asked as Finn hurriedly packed some clothing in a bag. She braced herself for the look he gave her.

"He … he's in the infirmary." The words were bitter, but the girl deserved the truth.

In the low light from the corridor, Katniss' gray eyes shone with apprehension and fear.

"What happened?"

"Katniss, just … just don't go there yet. He doesn't want you to— hey!"

She passed by him without ceremony, barefoot and running to the stairs. Katniss could hear Finnick's pleas and pants as he tried to keep up to her pace. When they approached the simple medical ward of the House, to her mortifying realization, she could also distinguish Peeta's voice—and cries.

Lara was on the phone in front of the infirmary's door. She hung up as soon as she saw Katniss, sharing a concerned look with Finnick when he joined them.

"You," Lara started, grasping Katniss' hand before she could enter the room where Peeta's voice was coming from. "You shouldn't be here."

"He's my husband!" Katniss' voice had lost any trace of balance, exposing her true fears.

"Katniss, please." Lara held both her arms, forcing the girl to look at her. "That's exactly why you shouldn't be here."

"But—"

"He's going to be fine. I assure you," Lara confessed, her eyes watering a little. "But he needs time. He even asked us not to call you."

"What happened?" Katniss' heart was suffocating; she needed to see him.

"A miscommunication between us and a client." Finnick stepped closer to the women, resting a hand on Lara's shoulder. "Peeta was not prepared to handle this kind of situation."

"There are rules. You told me that!" Katniss snapped, pushing Lara's hand aside. "They can't do this to him!"

"Katniss, this is not something ordinary," Lara whispered, hoping the girl would calm down and not alert Peeta of her presence. "We think it was arranged."

The look of anger Katniss gave Lara would make a perfect Rebellion flag.

"And who arranged this?" Her words came out from gritted teeth.

Lara and Finnick exchanged a look.

"I think you know the answer," Lara said.

Katniss rested her back on the glassy door of the waiting room. There was someone that she knew would do anything to hurt her or her family.

She'd kill Snow for that.

* * *

"Of course you were the target. Peeta wanted to protect you. As always." Haymitch sat next to her in the infirmary. He had brought hot chocolate and tea, but Katniss didn't feel like drinking anything. "Have you seen him, yet?" he asked, placing the beverages on the table next to the small couch Katniss was sitting on. She had a blanket around her, thanks to Haymitch's frequent trips back and forth the infirmary that morning.

"They said I need to wait a few more hours after the surgery." Her face showed all her tiredness, though Katniss wasn't going to leave the medical ward before seeing Peeta.

"He's fine." Haymitch poured some liquor in his chocolate. He was never a big fan of sweet drinks. "But listen to me. You do understand why they did it to him, don't you?"

Katniss focused her tired gaze on Haymitch long enough to see he was sober. She rested her head back on the wall, stretching her legs on the sofa. "They want to scare me off," she said casually, closing her eyes. "They want me to forget anything about the rebellion. They want to send me a message."

"And … what are you going to do about it?" He took a sip from his mug. His grimace was due to the sweetness, not the alcohol.

Katniss opened her eyes and stared deep into Haymitch's gray sight. Her face trembled from repressed rage; her hands balled the blanket around her.

With a steady voice, she swore, "They will pay, Haymitch."

"Does that mean …"

"I'm in. I'll be your symbol."

* * *

It had been an empty dream. Peeta was grateful for that, because lately his dreams were horrific remakes of death, violence and loneliness. He missed Katniss and felt guilty for the fact she wasn't talking to him. He always watched her car leave the House in the night, and searched for her after she was back. He had given up knocking on her door but still walked around her room in the nights. Peeta would do anything for her forgiveness.

Accepting Finnick's request to take a difficult client in her place had been easy. Peeta hand't thought twice; of course, he would do anything for Katniss. Everything seemed normal when he got to the client's house. It would be another night, another job.

Everything changed fast and ended up with him having a critical hemorrhage.

But honestly? He'd do it again if it meant Katniss wouldn't be the one in the infirmary.

"Peeta?"

Her voice brought a smile to his chapped lips. After his blank dream, the warm breath of his wife next to his ear was comforting.

"Hey … you," he said in a dry voice.

Katniss' heart felt heavy when she looked down at his exhausted eyes. Though behind the tiredness, she could see relief. Her own eyes tearing up showed that too.

"Just rest, okay?" She searched for his hand, grasping it tightly. "You'll be fine."

"Are you mad at me?"

She couldn't suppress the tears at his question. Maybe a part of her was still disappointed but not mad—not anymore. She was ashamed, scared and longing.

"I'm so sorry …" She glanced away from him.

Peeta frowned; he didn't know if Katniss knew the details of his incident. Part of his pride was extremely ashamed to be exposed like that. He vaguely remembered begging Finnick not to tell Katniss about his condition, though part of it felt unreal now.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to you earlier. I just—I just needed time," she continued, wiping her cheeks with her free hand.

He heaved a sigh. If she knew, she wasn't going to say it.

Either way, Peeta wasn't ready for a real conversation.

He just needed his wife.

"I …" His throat hurt to speak. He swallowed hard and tried to stretch, feeling his limbs lightly numb.

"You okay?" Katniss stood up to rest her hand on his forehead, moving a stray hair from his eyes.

He looked up at her, seeing the tears still dripping from her chin.

"I miss you," he admitted.

Without a word, she leaned down to rest her cheek on his chest. Peeta raised a trembling hand to caress her tangled hair.

He exhaled slowly, kissing the top of her head.

It felt incredibly real.

* * *

Lara watched the reunion of the Mellarks behind the glassy door of Peeta's infirmary room.

"They seem fine," Haymitch said in a slurred voice.

She startled at seeing him so close to her, distracted by the fondness of Katniss and Peeta's encounter.

"We knew the client was tough, but no one could have foreseen this," she explained, looking back at the glass. She didn't drift her attention from the couple inside the room, listening to Haymitch's loud exhale—they both felt guilty. Lara could feel her heart accelerating as Haymitch stepped closer.

"They wanted to break her," he whispered, his liquor-laced breath next to her neck. "But it didn't work out. She's with us."

Lara bit her lip as Haymitch touched her shoulder, lightly running the extension of her arm. "They want to break us all. The question is..." Her heart throbbed in her throat while Haymitch spoke close to her ear; his stubble tickled her sensitive skin. "Who is their next target?"

"I have a better question." She turned to face him, using her arms to push his body. "How do they know so much about us?" she inquired, squinting her eyes to focus on Haymitch's gaze.

"An informant?" He asked incredulously, a half-smile on his lips.

"What is so funny? I don't buy that, Haymitch."

"Wait, wait, wait ..." he said hurriedly, crossing his arms in self-defense. "You don't think I'd do something like that."

"Why not?" She took one step in his direction, pointing her finger at him. "It happened a few days after you got to the Capitol. I don't believe in coincidences."

"You're not serious. You know me."

"I _knew_ you," Lara replied, running a hand through her hair. "We haven't spoken for years, Haymitch. You being part of this was actually a surprise for me."

Haymitch was going to answer with a clever reply when he noticed Johanna approaching them from behind Lara. He smirked at her.

"I'm not even going to start about how you surprised me," he said jokingly, winking at Johanna, who just glared at him. He ignored her and turned to leave the infirmary.

Lara turned to see Johanna standing behind her, piercing Haymitch's back with a deadly stare.

"I never got that." Johanna pointed to Haymitch, resting a protective hand on Lara's shoulder. "You two. I could never picture you with someone like him."

"He's a … good person." Haymitch was not a subject Lara wanted to talk about. Especially with Johanna.

"I really doubt that," Johanna said while forcing a small laugh.

Lara pushed her hand away in a harsh move of her shoulder. "Don't talk about things you don't know."

Johanna gulped back her laugh. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"He's a drunk, and I'm a prostitute. What better couple than that?" Lara looked back at the glass. Johanna's hurtful look felt like a punch.

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Johanna said quietly, trying to touch Lara's shoulder again. She didn't fight back against her touch this time.

"I know. I'm just … something came up. We need all the records from the phone calls."

"What for?"

"We have an informant." Lara looked up at Johanna who seemed surprised.

"I'll—I'll call Beetee," Johanna answered, her face showing concern.

"Thank you." Lara kissed Johanna's cheek. "I'll work tonight. Send Beetee's report to my room later, okay?"

"Okay …" Johanna watched Lara leaving the room. She then looked at the figures inside the infirmary room; Katniss was peacefully resting her head on Peeta's chest, his hand continuously combing her hair.

"Shit …" Johanna mumbled as she walked away.

* * *

Peeta closed his bedroom door and threw his backpack on the floor.

"I think this room is much nicer when you're here," he quipped, smiling at Katniss who had entered the room before him.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend another night at the infirmary?" she asked warily, picking up his backpack to place it near his wardrobe.

"Please, no. I'm fine." He went to open his window, allowing the summer breeze to refresh the air. Katniss noticed how he was limping slightly heavier than his leg required but knew his deepest wounds were in his mind, not in his body.

She turned to his wardrobe, ready to replace his clothes in the right place. "I'm just worried," she mumbled to herself, sure he wouldn't agree with her.

Katniss heard him approaching, his steps closer until a pair of strong arms hugged her from behind. She discarded the shirt she was folding to grasp him, leaning her head against his shoulder. They both needed the touch, the contact, anything from each other. She concentrated on listening to his breath in the moment of silence, closing her eyes to inhale his scent, his presence.

"I missed you," he whispered into her ear, nudging his nose on her neck. It spread warmth through her body.

It was the first time in weeks that she had been touched by someone she really cared about. All the clients, the jobs and sessions … they meant nothing. She could barely remember anything. It only felt real with Peeta.

"I missed you too," she sighed, her arms hugging him tight. She could hear his heart accelerating, his grip responding to her. Katniss turned to face him but never left his arms.

The kiss was soft, brief, not actually corresponding to the longing of the couple. Peeta smiled down at her, satisfied with her acceptance and forgiveness.

Though at the same time, he was afraid.

She was still smiling when his lips found hers again, this time more demanding, extending the kiss to her cheeks, neck, jaw. Responding to the kiss, she crossed her arms behind his neck, pulling him closer to her. Peeta didn't break for air, his hands running to her slim waist, pressing her body against his.

"Peeta," Katniss tried to say in the moments he focused on her neck. "Peeta, are you sure you—"

"I'm tired of picturing you while I have sex with someone else," he panted, meeting her eyes. She nodded, her lips red and swollen.

He hugged her close, needing to feel her entire body against him. "I just—"

"It's okay," he said inhaling her scent, the smell of woods discreetly behind artificial shampoo.

Katniss' heart calmed down as he held her; she felt secure under his touch, his need of her. His lips were trembling when she kissed him again, guiding them backwards to his bed. As soon as they reached the mattress, Peeta assumed control, undressing her slowly. It was almost painfully arousing as she watched him explore her body with his eyes. She missed his touch too much just to stare.

He took off his shirt, and the moment their chests met made her realize how much she also needed him. Not his body, not the pleasure he could give her. Katniss needed the stability, the calmness Peeta could offer. They both gasped as he cupped her breasts, so small in his large hands. Arousal was taking over her body, making her thoughts more irregular.

He snuck a hand between their bodies, landing a kiss on her chest. He grunted gutturally when his fingers found her wet folds, pushing them inside her without warning. She suppressed a gasp at the contact, bucking her hip up to encourage him. He curved his fingers slightly inside her, and this time, Katniss bit her lip so as not to groan. Before she could ask for more, he moved his hand, uprooting a frustrated whimper from her. She didn't have a chance to complain, though; he was on his knees right after, positioning himself.

Peeta's grasp on the sheets was strong as he pushed inside her, and this time neither of them could hold the relieved moan. She couldn't explain why sex felt physically different with him; he could.

He knew that love changed everything.

The friction his pelvis was applying to her clit was coiling pleasure in her center, making her respond to each thrust more forcefully. Peeta's body was heading to climax, but his mind was racing with a different subject entirely. He wanted to ignore, to drown his insecurities with the pleasure-filled gasps of his wife. Peeta wanted to forget the emotional and physical pain, to live free from his inner ghosts. He was doing a fine job with it until the rebellion came up, until everything that made him a slave, a Capitol puppet, could be removed. He could be free.

But so could Katniss.

"I know," he panted, not stopping his movements as he spoke. "I know you don't really love me." His voice mixed with her moans, but she suddenly stopped at his last declaration. Peeta pushed further inside her, pinning her to the bed and meeting her eyes. It verged pain. "I know you don't really. I know you were forced into this." He finished his sentence guiding himself slightly out of her to push in again. They both moaned, relieved and scared. "And I know that after the rebellion you'll be free to be with who you really want."

She didn't know what to say; her body was trembling from the upcoming release, denied by her then confused mind. What did he mean? Did Peeta—

"I don't want you to forget this," he mumbled, hiding his face next to her neck. "Please don't forget this," he grunted, his hands resting on her hips. His grip was firm as he spoke. "Don't forget that I love you."

Katniss silently held her husband as he came. Her nails dug into his back, and her own pleasure was suppressed by a wave of insecurity—and a bit of rage. Peeta started to cry after, ashamed and at the same time relieved to open his heart.

He was sure Katniss was in this marriage by force; and he was certain she would run to some else's arm as soon as she got rid of him.

The question was … would she?

* * *

**Author's Note: **C'mon, guys! What's an Everlak without some drama?


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings:** Rated NC-17(M), Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, Abuse and Dub-Con.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

It would have happened anyway. Normally it was expected for more experienced escorts to work in pairs, but considering Katniss and Peeta's history, they'd have ended up in a team job in their first season.

If Katniss could choose, she'd have wanted to share a client with Peeta in better terms. Since his declaration, things between them were shallow, insecure. Peeta was always there to hold her after dark nightmares, and she searched for him in the night for comfort. Though she never really answered his question: would she have chosen him in a different reality?

She didn't answer because she didn't know—and long ago she agreed not to lie to the ones she cared about.

Peeta's yellow suit was a stark contrast to Katniss' black mini dress. He held the car door for her and smiled, as if they were going to a date and not to work as prostitutes. Following a mute servant, he guided them into the client's house, holding her hand. She didn't notice how hard Peeta grasped the bedroom door as he opened it for her. He passed a hand through his hair before kissing her cheek, discreetly offering her the green pills he carried in his pocket. They swallowed the pills dryly and entered the room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mellark," Romulus, their client for the night, greeted them. Katniss made her best effort not to snort. The man was wearing nothing but a burgundy robe, a sign he was one of those clients that didn't like to wait for the real action. "Welcome to my humble house."

His apartment was at the top of a huge building near the city center. The decoration followed the Capitol's disturbed taste, an incoherent mix of colors and shapes. It was definitely not humble. Katniss nodded and silently thanked Peeta as he linked his arm with hers, smiling broadly.

"Our pleasure, Mr. Romulus," Peeta said.

Both of them had already shared a bed with different clients, but this felt like a first time. More for Peeta than for Katniss, who was mastering the art of ignoring her sessions.

Romulus stepped closer. He was in his mid-fifties, had dyed brown hair and blue lipstick. Under the robe, he flaunted a hairless and rounded body. He kissed them on the cheeks, making disgusted shivers run their spines.

"It's an honor to finally meet you!" he said excitedly. For a moment Katniss thought he would clap his hands, like Effie sometimes did, but he denied her the funny scene. "You have no idea how hard it was to place my name in your season!"

Peeta plastered his automatic smile and didn't answer. His mind screamed for him to punch the man in the face, but he wasn't that stupid anymore.

"Please," Romulus continued. "Make yourself comfortable in my king-size bed."

They knew that was a euphemism for "get naked there." Katniss stretched out as she approached the bed, the adrenaline pill starting to get to her. Peeta delicately touched her shoulder from behind, freeing her arms from the straps. The simple gesture meant that they were going to face that night together. She grasped his suit to expose his chest.

Romulus lay on the bed, watching them with hungry eyes. He wanted to taste the couple, but not yet. Peeta kicked his pants aside, ready to take off his gray underwear when Romulus spoke. "I wanna watch it."

Katniss was still dealing with her dress, her back to the bed.

"What, exactly?" Peeta asked in a soothing voice.

Romulus sat more comfortably on his bed, pointing to Katniss' back. "I never understood why you guys didn't do it in your Games—"

Peeta felt blood flushing his face, anger almost taking over.

"—but I want to watch you eating her out," Romulus finished, licking his lips enticingly.

Peeta could see Katniss' small reaction of disgust, but when she looked back at the bed, her face showed false excitement.

Her lips met Peeta's sweetly and he returned with ferocity. She ignored Romulus' words of encouragement as Peeta pulled her to the bed, with a strength he normally didn't show. She felt repulsion from showing this kind of intimacy—their intimacy—to a client, but something was off. Peeta was demanding and possessive, roughly kissing her neck and down her chest.

In part, it was good. They were acting. She always pretended when encountering her clients and she didn't want it to be different with Peeta. Katniss would be mortified to share their real feelings in a stranger's bed.

She wanted to act, to pretend, but Peeta was making it difficult. His strong hands holding her hips, his insistent tongue lavishing her folds and greedily focusing on her clit was making it really hard to pretend. Katniss barely could hear Romulus' pleas; her mind couldn't process anything else. It was like Peeta wanted to prove something, it was like …

She bit her lip, finally understanding. He _was _trying to prove something. Every touch, every lick and grasp was a desperate declaration of love and longing. He truly believed she would leave him if the Capitol fell. Between heavy breaths and the pleasure coiling in her lower belly, she looked down to find Peeta's piercing azure eyes fixed on her.

_You're mine_, those eyes said. _At least for now, you're mine_.

"Peeta …" she moaned, her hand closing on his golden locks.

He wasn't going to let her talk. Peeta knew she wasn't going to say what he needed to hear.

Her next phrase melted in another moan as he sucked harder, her thoughts going incoherent. The pleasure uncoiled quickly, running the whole extension of her body, and she hated herself for that, for exposing her real feelings that way. Katniss pushed Peeta's hair in a desperate sign, hoping he would understand. She was trembling from the waves of her orgasm when he moved to lie on top of her, covering her face from Romulus. He knew and he wanted it all for him.

Peeta covered her with his body until she could look up at him. His resolution from before had quivered and his eyes were unsure: should he say he was sorry?

In an unspoken agreement, she blushed deeper and nodded, kissing his cheek. "It's okay," she mumbled next to his ear. His muscles relaxed.

"Holy shit, that was hot." Romulus' voice was cold water on Peeta, who instantly tensed again. He was still wearing his boxers and his erection was visible to Katniss and Romulus—but what he'd have to do with that was the latter's call. "But Peeta …" Romulus crawled next to the couple, pulling Peeta by the arm. He rolled to meet Romulus in a deep kiss, his jaw tense. Katniss noticed how uncomfortable Peeta was and positioned herself behind him to massage his neck, easing the building tension. Romulus sucked Peeta's lower lip, his hand running inside the gray boxers. "I think you deserve some of that too, don't you?" The man's dark brown eyes fixed on Peeta. The younger man smiled and gulped, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His heart beat faster as the man pulled him to the edge of the bed, kneeling to face his crotch.

Most clients didn't like to perform oral sex, but the few that liked it preferred to do it with a man.

Katniss adjusted her position behind Peeta and rested his back on her chest. She could feel his strong heartbeat, his short breaths. Peeta seemed nervous, so she held him close to her, nestling her chin over his shoulder. She breathed near his ear slowly, grasping his chest tightly. He understood and followed her breathing, calming down.

Romulus, unaware of the Mellarks' small interactions, pumped Peeta for a moment before closing his light blue lips around his manhood. Peeta suppressed a whimper and the sound penetrated Katniss' heart like a knife.

Peeta's heart and breathing accelerated as the man continued to suck forcefully on him. His hands closed painfully on Katniss's thighs, which were surrounding his middle.

It wasn't making sense to Katniss. She knew Peeta had done things like that with different clients by then. Why would it be so hard for him that night?

"Katniss," Peeta called in the tiniest voice, blindly searching for her. She pressed their cheeks to speak, hoping Romulus would be so concentrated on her husband's pleasure he wouldn't hear her.

"I'm here—it's okay," she said kindly, but she was confused. Why was Peeta—

_Don't forget that I love you._

How could she be so blind? Peeta wasn't like her; he couldn't detach himself so easily from reality. He was sensitive, an artist. He wasn't the stubborn bull Katniss could transform into.

She moved her hips to position Peeta more comfortably and rested her lips right under his ear.

The last time she had said it, she was seething inside. She was frustrated with the Capitol and partly with Peeta. She was afraid and insecure, but she was more innocent than now. That night she had been forced to say it, forced to make a bond she wasn't willing to make. But not tonight; tonight she would say it hoping Peeta would truly believe.

"You're mine," she said softly, and Peeta's breath caught on his throat. "I'm yours and you're mine. For better or for worse …" His grip on her thigh loosened a bit. One of his hands ran to Romulus hair; what the man interpreted as encouragement was actually a gesture to push him away.

Katniss swallowed hard and continued, her hand trembling on Peeta's chest. "For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish …" Her voice was breaking, but she forced herself to continue, doing her best to ignore the sounds Romulus was making. "Until death do us apart," she finished quietly, uninvited tears on her face.

Peeta craned his neck to look deep in her eyes. His face was a mix of expressions, but one thing was clear. Wordlessly, he asked, begged her.

_Is this real?_

She kissed him then. Nothing else could be said in the presence of a stranger. Katniss deepened the kiss, a reminder of where they were and what they were doing. Peeta closed his eyes and focused on her lips, his body close to his release thanks to Romulus's persistent mouth. She changed her aim to a weak spot in Peeta's neck she knew would push him further. While she worked on the soft spot, one of Romulus's hands searched to work in tandem with his mouth, and that was enough for Peeta.

With a forceful moan, he came in hot waves, filling Romulus' mouth. Katniss' face was like a stone as she watched another man over her husband. She replaced her mask back right in time when Romulus freed Peeta, because in a second he was over her. Peeta's taste on his mouth was the only thing making him acceptable. He took off his robe and pushed her further on the bed. He kneeled on top of her, looking back at Peeta.

"How long do you need?" His voice was rough, different from the tone he had greeted the couple with. Power and arousal changed people.

"Five minutes," Peeta answered, briefly locking his eyes with Katniss.

"Good. Because I want you to fuck her with me."

Katniss' hand brushed Peeta's good knee as Romulus positioned himself above her. Her face was showing curiosity, even audacity, but it was all a well-played role—she just wanted this night to end.

Romulus' lips were on hers again, kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts. The man was indelicate, harsh. His politeness ended when all he wanted was carnal pleasure.

She felt Peeta behind her, positioning himself in the same way she had done with him.

Romulus shared a glance with Peeta and nodded, his smile the personification of hedonism. He hurriedly put on a condom, forcing Katniss to open herself for him. She was thankful when his face buried next to her shoulder and searched for Peeta's lips one more time—she could finally express the repugnance she was feeling. Peeta placed himself between her buttocks but didn't penetrate; he wasn't going to physically force her like that. But he had a part to play and rocked his hips and moaned with Romulus.

A raw, brutal rage started to build in Peeta's chest at each new thrust. It was the first time he was present when a client was having sex with Katniss. Under his nose, a stranger was loudly fucking his wife, who was grasping his hand with the same intensity she had done in their marriage ceremony. Peeta responded to her grip, but what he really wanted was to put his hands on Romulus' throat.

It ended with a sharp cry from Romulus and a deep grunt from Peeta; Katniss was silent.

Peeta didn't wait for Romulus to roll over, pulling Katniss from under him. She was small and didn't complain, internally grateful for being freed from the massive man's weight. Still, she turned abruptly to face Peeta, her fears being confirmed by the deadly glance Peeta was piercing on Romulus' back.

"What are you doing?" she whispered harshly, grasping Peeta's arms. "Don't even think about—"

Peeta looked at her then, his cheeks flushed with anger, his icy blue eyes ready to show no mercy.

"Don't touch him," Katniss warned him, caressing his balled fists. "Please, listen to me."

She watched as his dilated pupils shrank to a normal size. "Peeta?" She touched his cheeks.

"I just can't—"

They both stopped at the loud and deep snore that filled the room above their whispers. They slowly turned to Romulus, who was still face down on the bed.

"Is he …?"

"Shhh!" Katniss shushed Peeta, a wave of relief clashing in her.

Peeta bit his lip, suppressing a sudden nervous laugh. He held Katniss' arm and nodded toward the door.

Well, if a client fell asleep the escort could leave. Rules were rules.

Silently, warily and holding their breaths not to laugh, Katniss and Peeta snatched their discarded clothes. They tiptoed to the door, opening it slightly, just enough for their bodies to pass. Romulus snorted loudly from the bed as they were leaving and the Mellarks froze. Their hearts just started beating again when the man returned to an even pattern of snoring.

With the bedroom door closed behind them, they rushed for the exit of the house, puzzling the Avox that guided them. Katniss' high heels were in her hands and Peeta's shirt was unbuttoned, his suit over his shoulder. However, what really confused the Avox were the childish smiles on their lips as they practically ran for the car waiting for them. The couple even ignored the heavy rain falling as they hurriedly rushed for the vehicle.

The reason to smile, the comical tragedy, seemed to subdue as they entered the car that would lead them back to the House. Katniss didn't need to ask and made herself comfortable on Peeta's lap. He easily picked her up, cuddling her between his arms to transfer heat to her trembling body. The driver started the car and closed the black window that connected their compartment to his—a common gesture when picking up escorts.

The Capitol wasn't a quiet city at night, but it felt extremely peaceful for Katniss as she was lulled by the humming of the rain and Peeta's arms.

"Was it real?"

His voice seemed far away. She forced her eyes open.

Peeta was looking right at her, his eyes watering.

"What you said." He continued to stare at her. "Was it real?" he repeated.

If Gale were the one next to her in the Hunger Games, they both would be dead by now. Gale was like her, fierce fire ready to explode. What made her live through the Capitol's madness was Peeta's control, at least when he showed it. He protected her, he cherished her and—god yes—he loved her. Katniss would do anything in the world to protect him too, because she loved him back.

It was the first time she was realizing it: she loved him.

She tilted her neck enough to reach his lips. The salt taste from his tears filled her mouth as Peeta responded to the kiss. His tongue entered her mouth slowly, tasting every corner and cleft.

No one was there; no client, no camera. This was their moment.

Katniss adjusted herself to sit better on his lap, pulling her dress up her hips and quickly kicking off her panties. Peeta was going to protest, but her hands were fast to take off his belt and pull down his pants enough for his erection to spring free.

She rose slightly from the backseat to sit on him, extracting a hiss from Peeta. Her arms winded behind his neck and he rested his hand on her hips to help her move. She wasn't expecting to reach climax; she just wanted to give him an answer and everybody knew Katniss' strength wasn't in words. One clever hand sneaking between them to find her clit made her gasp. Apparently, Peeta had other plans.

None of them was going to last long, not in the mix of emotions and events that night turned to be. Katniss came sharply in a muffled cry and Peeta buried his mouth in her neck to groan his pleasure.

Their labored breath mixed in a lazy kiss, whatever boost of energy they had from the pills vanishing. Peeta rested his head on her sweaty forehead, holding her close.

Her eyes shut when she finally found words.

"Real."

When the car pulled up to the House, Katniss was sound asleep in Peeta's arms. He adjusted his suit to protect her from the rain, running the few yards to the back door closer to the bedrooms. He didn't notice the lonely figure on the sidewalk, quietly freezing in the rain.

The back door led to the main kitchen. Peeta found a worried Johanna nursing a mug of coffee. She hopefully looked up at him at the sound of the door being opened, but her hope morphed to distress when she saw him.

"Oh, it's just you …" Johanna said and then noticed Katniss in his arms. "Is she …?"

"She's just sleeping," Peeta answered with a tight smile. Johanna nodded.

Katniss stirred quietly, burying her face in his chest, so Peeta bid Johanna goodnight and headed to his room.

Whatever Johanna was doing there in the middle of the night wasn't his problem.

In the kitchen, Johanna poured another cup of coffee. It was getting late, and she was more preoccupied with each moment. A chilly breeze made her shiver under her pajamas and she swore, seeing that Peeta had left the door to the patio open. He was carrying his wife, though that wasn't an excuse in this cold rain. Johanna mumbled a few more curses as she approached the door, walking slowly not to slip on the tiled floor.

She swallowed whatever other curse for Peeta when she saw the shadow on the sidewalk, standing alone in the rain.

"Fuck …" she said to herself, running in the directing of the completely soaked Lara. "How long have you been here?" she yelled under the heavy rain, but the older victor barely recognized her presence. "Let's get you inside!" Johanna half-carried, half-pulled Lara into the kitchen, offering her a steaming mug. Lara's eyes were pale yellow and they seemed unfocused, staring at nothing. Her skin was hot at the touch and her lips were purple from cold. She sat at the table and ignored the mug as much as she ignored Johanna. "L? Lara, look at me." Soaked and verging on desperation, Johanna grasped Lara's hand. "Fucking look at me!" she shouted, a thunder drowning out her plea.

Lara's lips moved soundlessly.

Johanna grunted and swallowed her pride, rushing for the stairs.

A half-drunk Haymitch was in the kitchen less than five minutes later. He stole the coffee mug from Lara and gulped it down before trying to figure out the situation.

"Do you know how long she was in the rain?" he asked while touching Lara's forehead. He hissed at feeling it feverish.

"No idea," Johanna answered from behind him. "I've been waiting since 2 a.m."

"Lara?" Haymitch asked her, but she didn't have a different response. "Fuck." He passed his hand through his dark hair and rubbed his eyes. He turned to face Johanna. "The only time I saw her like this was when her brother died."

"She had a brother?" Johanna sounded incredulous. She suddenly felt betrayed, as if Lara wasn't being honest with her.

"Yeah," Haymitch continued and Johanna looked back at Lara, who still seemed far away in her mind. "Alexander."

The unfocused honey eyes shined, lighting up to pierce Johanna's face at the mention of Alexander's name. Johanna held her breath at the sudden display of emotion and Haymitch turned again to see Lara.

"Hey, are you—"

"He didn't have the right. I did everything he asked for." Lara's voice was weak, different from her common authoritarian tone. She sounded like the scared victor Haymitch once met. "He didn't have the right," she repeated between gritted teeth.

The pieces fit together in Johanna's mind. If Lara got shocked like this by something that happened to her family …

"Is this about Reynard?" Johanna pushed Haymitch aside to hold Lara's hand.

"Who the fuck is Reynard?" Haymitch asked and was completely ignored.

"He invited me to his mansion …" Lara started, sobs muffling her voice. She wasn't looking at Johanna, but back at the door. "I thought, I thought it would be a job."

"Who the hell is—"

"Shut up, Haymitch!" Johanna yelled at him.

"He wanted to, to—" Lara couldn't continue as she started to cough.

"Shh, it's okay …" Johanna got up from her chair to hug Lara from behind.

"—to congratulate him!" Lara yelled, her cry muffled by another coughing fit.

Haymitch grasped Johanna's hand. Something was extremely wrong in that story and he needed to know what. "Who is Reynard?"

"Her son," she said dryly. "And apparently, President Snow personally congratulated Lara for his twelfth birthday."

Haymitch sobered up at the realization.

Lara had a son.

He was twelve years old.

And the fucking Quarter Quell was only weeks away.

* * *

Haymitch was exhausted and annoyingly sober. Johanna's hair was a short brown mess; her feet were tired and her blouse was still damp. The sun would be coming up soon, the first rays already adventuring in the main waiting room. Neither of them would leave the infirmary until Lara woke up. They used the wee hours of the morning to tell their sides of Lara's story: Johanna wanted to know about Alexander and Haymitch trembled inside at each mention of Reynard's name.

Alexander was older than Lara, a brave, handsome young man. The heir of the traditional Nelore family, one of the aristocrat clans in District Ten—an oligarchic district with a handful of extremely wealthy families and most of the population in palpable misery.

Lara's family owned huge extensions of land and had thousands of cattle. Her name being pulled out in the reaping was a shock but nobody could go against it. Though money could always help. With the right stylist, mentor and sponsors, the girl that used to rope calves and kill pigs could use her lasso and knife for the Capitol entertainment.

Being the young pretty victor she was, the Escort business didn't take long to request her services. What would a proud, rich and selfish woman say to something like that? Her resounding "no" echoed in her mind a million times as she watched her brother body's moving with the wind, hanged in their square. Nobody could go against the Capitol, no matter how wealthy, brave or handsome they were. Two weeks later, she was the newest addition of the Escort Victors.

Johanna remembered when she first met Lara. The older woman advised her to enter the Escort Victors as soon as possible or consequences would be felt. Johanna followed the stigma of the young victors, ignoring Lara completely. Snow didn't stop at Johanna's brother. Her luck was that she could find a different kind of support with Lara.

"When I met her," Johanna said while putting an extra cube of sugar in her tenth coffee. "Reynard was five, or six, something like that. She never told me about his story. I just know he's a great kid. Anytime she can be, she's there with him. Oh, and he loves horses." She smiled to herself. It was hard to be a boy in Ten and not like horses.

Haymitch listed to it carefully, his stomach in knots. Lara had some really good questions to answer when she woke up.

Lara was beautiful, young and, well, hot when she won her games. All victors had rushed to earn her attention. Why did she end up with Haymitch? A young woman looking for a protective male figure and an older man searching for any kind of affection.

Oh, and Lara used to drink, too. A win-win situation.

A few years after the apparently stable relationship—as much as prostitution and booze could coexist—Lara broke up with Haymitch without any further explanation and disappeared from his life. He only saw her during the Games, since they always mentored. She never gave him an explanation and barely looked him in the eyes. That was all Haymitch knew about Lara Nelore.

"Snow is using the kid to get to her," Haymitch sighed. "He's enough of a scumbag to do this."

"Do you think he could really do this? Reap Reynard to make Lara and other victors stop everything about the rebellion?" Johanna felt sick at the thought.

Haymitch took a deep breath. "He could do anything for power." He glanced at Lara's door, beyond which she was resting and receiving medication. "That man is all about power."

"Some victors may retreat if their families are at risk." Johanna pushed her mug away from her. She had enough caffeine for a week.

The experienced Twelve victor sounded wise and determined as he stood up, heading to Lara's door. "Everybody needs to make sacrifices."

"Where are you going?" Johanna asked while he continued to walk. "She's still asleep."

"I need to talk to her," he explained from behind his shoulders.

"Save your breath. He's not yours."

He stopped and looked back at Johanna. Of course she would put two and two together. Simple math showed that Haymitch had every right to be concerned about who Reynard's father was.

"And how do you know that? You just said—"

"He's too good to be your son." She stood up to stare at him. Even being considerably shorter, Johanna could meet his eyes in challenge. "Lara rejected you from her life, don't you see? And if she chose not to tell you anything, she had a damn good reason."

Haymitch held her eyes for a moment then glanced away. Without a word, he turned to leave the infirmary.

Johanna was right. Lara had an extremely good reason.

* * *

Finnick entered Lara's bedroom with a breakfast tray. She had been out of the infirmary for a few days, recovering in her own room. When she had woken up Johanna was the only one waiting for her. Curiously, Haymitch traveled back to Twelve and didn't say good-bye. Lara pretended she didn't know why.

"Toast, tea and bacon," Finnick said as he sat next to her bed, the tray at her hand's reach. "Perfect breakfast for victors."

"Or for sick and wounded," she responded sarcastically, grabbing a crispy toast. "You sneaked the bacon in it, didn't you?"

"Peeta did, actually." Finnick smiled sheepishly. "He likes to spend some time in the kitchen."

Lara nodded and bit her bacon, smiling to herself—it was delicious.

Finnick watched her eat in silence for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Lara, I—"

"He would do it, Finnick." Her voice was verging on weakness, but she disguised it with her tea. "And not just to me. I … I don't know what to do."

"We could do it. Run. Finish plotting everything at the base." He knew Lara's room wasn't bugged, though this kind of conversation could mean death if it got to wrong ears. "Let's not wait for the Games."

"We can't," Lara said regretfully. "You know the Hunger Games is when victors have more notoriety. We need to use that to get to the population. Expose the Capitol when all the eyes are on us."

"But Lara …" Finnick took a deep breath, threading his fingers through his hair. "If anything happens to Reynard or any other of our families … how are we going to do that? How are _you _going to handle this?"

"Maybe … maybe Snow is bluffing. He knows that if he destroys us, his business is also over."

"What's a business compared to a government?" Finnick touched her hand delicately. "Are you willing to risk that?"

Her voice broke as she couldn't suppress the tears. "What choice do I have?"

"I told you, we could—"

"Coin won't receive us before the planned time," she admitted and Finnick bit his lips. Lara was a mother; she already had tried all options to save her child.

"This is bullshit." He squeezed her hand, but she pushed his palm away and looked back at him with furious eyes.

"No, Finnick. This is war."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the reviews, favorites, follows, kudos and comments! (If you don't know, I check out the profile from each one of the followers and favorites. Thank you, guys!)

I'm sagacious-owl on tumblr ;D

Special thanks to the betareader: **Project Team Beta**.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

District Twelve wasn't the same. The changes that a new Head Peacekeeper had made were disastrous. Crimes normally overlooked now had severe public punishment. The Everdeens' house had constant patients due to injuries and diseases. With the Hob closed, many families couldn't run their businesses anymore, causing dozens of children to not have the enough to eat. And poaching? Not a chance; nobody in their right mind would dare to go into the woods.

But well … Katniss never had a right mind.

The smell of the woods reinvigorated Katniss' soul. Twelve was, and always would be, her home, no matter how they tried to change it.

The past month had been a continuous walk on thin ice for the rebel victors. With Peeta hurt and Lara's son threatened, they knew President Snow was alert, waiting for the slightest mistake to crush them like cockroaches. They responded the only way they could: laid low, did their job and pretended to be discouraged. It apparently worked. None of them had any problems in the past weeks. They were even allowed to go to their home districts days before planned. They'd return in a couple of weeks—during their vacation, of course—to attend the Quarter Quell, but it didn't scare them. It actually gave them hope, because with the Quell, their original plan was in order.

Katniss strolled back to the fence, a dead rabbit in her game bag. It felt nostalgic to do the things she used to in her life before the Games, now being a completely different person. She thought those old habits wouldn't bring her peace, but she was fortunately wrong. It was a good surprise to catch herself smiling as she entered her house, the aroma of baking filling her nostrils.

The sight that welcomed her in the living room confirmed her musings; maybe things would be all right. The rebels would defeat the Capitol, and they could live in a free society. The sudden repression occurring in the district was proof that the Capitol knew something was wrong—and was about to change.

Peeta was sitting on the living room floor, his shirt dirty with kitchen ingredients and colorful paints. Primrose was watching him intently as he mixed different pastes to produce the perfect color for her. Prim wanted to learn how to paint, and who better to teach her than her lovely brother-in-law? Peeta explained the processes of blending the textures very slowly not to form clots. He talked to her as an equal, as if he was discussing with a friend, not a student. Katniss tossed her game bag over the counter, quietly watching her husband telling her sister which shade of green would match the summer meadow. Something new turned Katniss' stomach, a feeling of longing for something she lost or never even had.

"They've been doing this all morning," her mother greeted her from behind, grabbing her game bag to skin the rabbit. "She's certain she'll paint the meadow by the end of the week."

"I hope she does." Katniss turned to follow her into the kitchen.

Her mother didn't question what she and Peeta had done in those months in the Capitol. She blindly accepted the vague response they offered. When Katniss locked eyes with her, the pale blue expressed a painful pity. She knew, or at least had a suspicion. Katniss internally promised never to confirm her mother's fears.

"I'll handle the rabbit, Katniss. You can go to the living room." She smiled at her daughter, lightly pushing her out of the kitchen.

Katniss resumed her earlier spot against the door frame, watching Peeta and Prim as they vividly discussed which red would be better to portray wild berries. She watched Peeta's full lips moving as he spoke, his eyelashes blinking in the sunlight and his strong arms tracing colorful lines on a paper. Warmth filled her body and calmed her heart.

Her relationship with Peeta had been developing in the past weeks. More often, she found herself watching, wanting, _needing_ him. The incredible way he completed her family was just a confirmation. She never regretted what she had said to him with their first client together—or how she responded later that night. Katniss was discovering that her feelings for Peeta were real.

Would she stay with him if the rebellion succeeded?

Peeta smudged Prim's cheek with the red ink, receiving a surprised shriek and a green stain on his nose in reply.

Yes. It felt right.

It felt real.

* * *

Peeta woke up to a steady caress on his stomach. It tickled and made him smile. His smile would have turned into laugher if the same hand playfully tickling him hadn't have descended to cup his throbbing erection. A gentle kiss muffled his gasp. He leisurely kissed back, sleep's haze disappearing under soft strokes and a hungry tongue. When he finally opened his eyes, two alert gray irises looked back, shining with what he could only call desire.

"Good morning," he groaned, searching Katniss' mouth for another kiss. The early summer sun rose in the sky, and a weak light entered the room.

She didn't say a word and smiled mischievously. He raised one eyebrow, but her response was a firm grasp around his hardness again.

Peeta loved when Katniss did that, woke him up for sex. She was obviously a morning person, and so was he, in different terms. He normally woke up with the sun to bake bread. Katniss used to kill things as a start of the day, so she got out of bed full of energy … an energy Peeta was happy to spend with a different activity. Coming back to Twelve had done wonders for their relationship. He had feared Gale's proximity would be a problem, but Katniss seemed to be more like his wife each day.

He almost could believe that she loved him.

Katniss pinned him down on the bed, attacking his mouth with a newfound urge. That was another thing Peeta discovered that she liked: Katniss loved to be in control in bed. It's not like she didn't enjoy when Peeta showed more of his alpha-male side, but she had a special delight in having control—not just in sex, really. Knowing that, Peeta happily watched her snatch his underwear and shirt, leaving him naked under her eyes and hands.

Her small palm traveled up and down the extension of his chest, and when she ventured further to touch him completely, he couldn't suppress a shuddering breath. She shushed him immediately. They knew her mother and sister were a few walls away. Peeta pushed his head back on the pillow, commanding himself to be quiet—and knowing Katniss wouldn't make that easy.

She quickly removed her pajamas to straddle him, her knees next to his hips. His hands firmly held her thighs, his fingers digging into her olive flesh. She would ride him, and he loved that. Her hand guided him into her as she slowly, almost painfully slow, descended until their hips were flush. It was her turn to muffle a loud moan. He always filled her completely, stretching her muscles to their limit.

He wanted to push into her as soon as their bodies met, though he waited for her to adjust to him. She was in control. Katniss looked down at him, meeting his blue eyes for a moment. When she moved, neither of them could keep eye contact, Peeta rolling his to enjoy her tightness and Katniss shutting hers to snug him better. Her mouth found his again in a quick kiss before she started to set a rhythm, mixing vertical movements with sliding to rub her clit. Peeta followed her lead, rocking his hips along with hers, not letting himself out of her for long.

The pace increased with their labored breaths, and Katniss wasn't aware of the bed hitting the wall as she amplified her thrusts. Peeta used his arms to move her up and down and pushed further into her. She gasped at the deep new angle, moving forward to encourage him.

He rested his hands on her lower back, helping her glide against him as her inner walls clenched. Her whimpering was audible and her movements went erratic as she approached her climax. She suddenly stiffened her moves, the pleasure jolting through her. Peeta watched her mouth slightly gape while she soundlessly moaned, and the sight was sufficient to push him beyond the edge. His hands pulled her hips against his as he spilled into her, muffling his grunt on her breasts.

He was boneless when he could finally catch a breath, one hand loosely around her butt. She lay limp on him, her thighs feeling warm.

"I love you," she confessed, her eyes closed and her lips trembling.

Peeta's heart accelerated at the admission—she could hear it under her ear. It was the first time she had said it to him. His hand found her hair, caressing it tenderly, threading through the long strands. She placed her chin on his chest, searching for his eyes. He glanced down at her and saw her flushed cheeks, parted lips and glistering eyes—they showed nothing but the truth. Peeta brushed her tears away.

"I really—"

"I believe you," he said reassuringly, and maybe for the first time, he actually did.

"And, and …" She cursed herself, fighting for words. Her eyes were shining with new tears when she looked at his face again. "And no matter what happens, I want to stay with you." Her voice broke, and Peeta felt his own tears. She hid her face in his chest, her sobs rocking her body. "That is," she cried, barely audible, "if you want me after all that I did."

She gasped aloud at the strong grip around her. He held her close to him, pulling her up to rest her head under his chin. He held her quietly as she poured out her fears and insecurities.

When her breath finally evened, he spoke, "I'm sorry about how we ended up together. About our marriage and the escorts …"

"Peeta …"

"Just listen to me." He kissed the top of her head. "But I don't regret being with you. I've always wanted to be with you …" He tipped her head so her red eyes met his. "And I want you to always be part of my life. I love you, Katniss."

* * *

A smiling and fresh-out-of-the-shower Katniss entered the kitchen, welcoming her sister and mother.

"Good morning, Little Duck." She ruffled Prim's hair and stole a strip of bacon from her plate. "Sleep well?"

Prim smirked at Katniss, who raised one eyebrow in question. "What?" Katniss asked. Prim opened her mouth to answer, but their mother called from the stove. "Do you want some eggs, Katniss?"

"Sure," she replied, her eyes fixed on her little sister. "What?" she repeated, reaching to grab another piece of bacon from Prim.

"Can I ask you something?" Prim pulled her plate away from Katniss' sneaky fingers.

"Yeah." Katniss tried for the bacon again, and Prim effortlessly slapped her hand away. "C'mon, just one more—"

"Can you wait until 7 a.m. to have sex? I really like to sleep until seven, and your bed keeps hitting the wall."

Katniss' chin almost hit the floor. Her face went pale and she stuttered while trying to come up with any kind of reply.

"Your eggs." Her mom approached and placed a plate with bacon and eggs in front of her. "What is going on?" she asked, seeing Prim's blush covered by an indiscreet laugh and Katniss' lack of color.

"I, I, I didn't—" Katniss started to say, having a hard time to place the word "sex" coming out of Prim's lips. But she was growing up, wasn't she? How did that happened? Katniss decided to ignore the sting in her heart at the doubt if Prim knew what she and Peeta did in the Capitol.

"I want more eggs, Mom," Prim said, and her mother just waved her concerns away, heading back to the kitchen counter. "You _are_ married to him, you know?" Prim mumbled as Katniss was still silent.

Katniss cleared her throat. Watching her sister win a Hunger Games, dealing with the new pressures in the district … it all made Prim look older than she really was.

"We were not—" Katniss stopped her phrase as they heard Peeta's heavy steps on the stairs. He entered the kitchen wearing a broad smile that just confirmed Prim's suspicious.

Peeta kissed Prim's hair and gave Katniss an innocent peck on her cheek. "Morning! What are you two talking about?" he asked in a good mood.

"Eggs and bacon. Do you want some?" Katniss uttered before Prim could say anything.

"More like eggs and sausage," Prim muttered and idly played with her food. Katniss glared at her, too mortified even to laugh. Peeta looked confused, but decided to ignore whatever was going on between the sisters.

"Eggs and bacon sounds great." He turned to help Mrs. Everdeen with the rest of the breakfast.

Katniss grasped Prim's hand to pull her closer. "Could you please not say the word 'sex' around me again? Ever?" she whispered.

"Sorry." Prim rolled her eyes. "I'm definitely not talking to Mom about it."

Katniss laughed quietly. "At least wait a few more years."

"How many?"

"Maybe … thirty. Or thirty-five, your call." She messed her sister's hair and pulled her into a hug. She just hoped her sister could be free to make her own choices in the future.

* * *

They burned the Hob on the day of the announcement. It was all prepared, but it was as if they were waiting for Katniss to be in the district to watch.

Actually, they were. President's orders.

The new Head Peacekeeper was keeping things extremely tight in District Twelve. The square had been rebuilt to support a new whipping pole and gallows. Katniss' mother and Prim were receiving patients on a regular basis, due to public punishments or starvation.

That day was calm, though. The black smoke coming from the Hob filled the night sky as Katniss, Peeta, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen made themselves comfortable to watch the mandatory viewing of the Quarter Quell announcement. Katniss was uneasy with the recent threats to the victors, but she couldn't imagine how Snow could use the Quell to hurt them. Victors were safe.

She'd regret that thought by the end of the night.

* * *

In his house, Haymitch nursed his second bottle of the hour, listening to the anthem that announced President Snow. All Panem's eyes watched him take the stage, followed by a young boy dressed in a white suit, holding a wooden box.

* * *

President Snow started his speech in a warm voice. It made a shiver run through Katniss' spine at the memory of blood and roses.

* * *

Up north, in District Seven, Johanna watched a small TV in her bedroom, the only room occupied in her too big house. As Snow continued to talk about the Dark Days and why the Hunger Games were created, she looked up at the window. It was a full-moon night.

* * *

The sound of the sea normally calmed Annie, though Snow's voice always made her uncomfortable. One of Finnick's hands was caressing her hair, and the other was fidgeting with a knot. They watched the President reminding the population about how the Capitol killed the district's rebellion seventy-five years ago, and Finnick knew Snow would point that out now, when a new rebellion was about to start.

The moon reflected on a waveless sea.

* * *

Lara's smile turned into a thin line as Snow announced that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. They'd been playing videos about the last Quell showing the once young and strong Haymitch. She silently smiled again when her eyes turned to her son, a tall boy playing with wooden horses in the next room. He loved his crafted collection and was carefully painting his newest acquisition—a birthday gift from his grandfather. She kept repeating to herself that Snow wouldn't touch him, but how could she know that?

"Mom," Reynard called, breaking her reverie. "Do you think black is a nice color for this one?" he asked hopefully while he showed her the half-painted horse. The color matched his tangled hair. She didn't find her voice to answer and just nodded.

* * *

In the center of the country, Samite watched the television warily. President Snow started to say what happen in the earlier Quells, and she couldn't stop thinking how unspeakably terrible that man could be.

"Were you in one of those?" her niece asked, sitting on the sofa next to her.

"No, darling," she answered with a smile. "My Games was not a Quarter Quell."

"But it was still special, right?" The other girl looked up at her from behind red-haired bangs the same hue as Samite's.

"Sure. Now let's watch the TV, okay?" Both girls offered her identical smiles and turned back for the television. Samite calmly caressed their small backs.

Everything had a reason.

* * *

"And now," announced President Snow, "we honor our third Quarter Quell." The boy behind him stepped forward with the box, opening the lid. The president removed a yellowed envelope marked with a 75.

Katniss' heart was on her throat, and she grasped Peeta's hand.

Haymitch took a long swig from his liquor.

Johanna just stared at the moon; maybe it would rain that night.

Finnick held Annie firmly as she started to whimper.

Samite couldn't blink, her eyes locked on that envelope as Snow unfolded it and started to read.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from the families and acquaintances of the existing pool of victors."

Prim led out a shriek, panic in her eyes. Katniss took another second to absorb the information; the air suddenly was too thick to breathe.

"They can't," Peeta had knelt in front of her, forcing her to look at him. "She was already reaped, they can't choose her." Just then Katniss realized she was hyperventilating. She held Peeta's hand on her face, feeling sick.

"Prim?" Katniss called in a small voice.

"Katniss." Primrose sat next to them, tears on her cheeks. She locked her azure eyes with Katniss, seeing that her older sister didn't understand what that meant. Her voice came out as a desperate sigh. "The Hawthornes."

* * *

Haymitch slumped on his chair and opened a new bottle.

* * *

Johanna ran to her phone and started to dial. Nobody was answering, so she kept dialing until her finger got numb.

* * *

Finnick kept whispering into Annie's hair. "It's okay, it's okay. There are many careers here. Our friends are safe."

Nothing could stop her from crying and screaming, though. It would be a long and dark night.

* * *

"Mom! Mom!"

Lara finally opened her eyes when Reynard threw cold water on her face. She regretted coming back to reality as she remembered why she had fainted. Her son looked down at her with his light-brown eyes, worried to death. "Mom, talk to me!"

She held him close to her chest as if he was still a loud, chubby baby. She knew that would be one of her last chances to hug her child.

* * *

Samite hugged her nieces close and thanked whatever god was out there for the fact they were still five years old.

* * *

Katniss was starting to hyperventilate again, and her mother brought her water. They almost missed the president's next statement.

"The honored families will receive a letter during the following week communicating the selected for the reaping. All families proven to have a public connection to victors are in range for the choice."

Peeta was talking to her, but she wasn't listening.

In one move, the Capitol had quenched any popularity of the victors and with that, any chance of them inciting a rebellion. Victors would be hated and avoided—from heroes to villains.

A brief list crossed Katniss' mind.

Rory. Madge. Peeta's brother. Greasy Sae's grandchildren. Her mother's patients; all potential tributes, because of her.

In those months, she hadn't really regretted her decision. It was the first time Katniss deeply regretted pulling out those berries.

* * *

Peeta opened the front door quietly. He hoped not to find anyone until he got some ice on his eye. He wasn't lucky that day, though.

"What the fuck happened?" Katniss almost shouted when she saw him. His cheek had a deep red bruise, and by the looks of his face, he'd have a black eye in the morning.

He mumbled an excuse and headed for the fridge, looking for ice. Katniss touched his hand halfway, and he had to look at her. Peeta took a deep breath, feeling his face burn with pain and shame.

"The Cartwrights received a letter. Delly's in."

Katniss swallowed dryly. She knew Delly Cartwright. A sweet, charming town girl that wouldn't have any chance in the arena; not when nieces, children and students from former careers were competing. Being from town, Delly had a small probability of being a tribute in a normal reaping. Her main problem this year was that she was Peeta's friend.

"Her father showed up at the bakery …"

He didn't need to explain further. Mr. Cartwright needed to blame someone for the fact his little girl had a huge chance of dying. Peeta's face was easier to hate than the actual responsible for all that mess.

Mr. Cartwright wasn't alone. Throughout Panem, all the families that received a letter blamed the victors. Friends, family, rich, poor … victors were being hated by everyone. There were reports of attacks in markets, malls, even violence against the former loved champions.

"Here." Katniss got the ice and helped Peeta. The pain was bad, but she knew the real reason why Peeta was weary. He felt guilty too. "We shouldn't leave the house until the Games. I don't think it's safe," she said while massaging his chin. He hissed against her touch.

"She's a nice girl, Katniss. And she probably would never have been reaped."

"Stop it. It's not your fault."

"All the wrestling team is in, too. They—"

A strong knock at the door interrupted him. Katniss stood up to answer it, but Peeta held her hand.

"Let me," he said. Katniss wanted to argue, but knew he was just trying to protect her.

Gale's expression was like a stone. He didn't flinch at seeing Peeta's injured face. He hadn't been in that house since his last appointment to treat his back, which was healing very well. Peeta didn't say anything and didn't open the door completely, so Katniss couldn't see who was at the door.

Gale silently handed a crumpled paper to Peeta, his steely eyes briefly encountering him. "Also old neighbors and all the Seam kids from your class," he said in a low voice, like a secret.

Peeta nodded and closed the door, unfolding the paper to try to read it, though he already knew. The Capitol's symbol was clear.

"Who was it?" Katniss asked. She also noticed the paper. "Peeta?"

He read the paper soundlessly and crumpled it again.

"Who?" Katniss' voice was almost breaking because part of her knew.

"The Seam kids from our former class," Peeta confessed. Katniss bit her lips and gave a resigned nod.

"Anyone else?"

Peeta fidgeted with the paper. Part of him knew the next name would hurt more. He reached for her hand, pulling her into an embrace. "Rory Hawthorne."

Katniss accepted the hug and buried her face on his shoulder.

Gale would never forgive her.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the reviews, favorites, follows, kudos and comments!

I'm sagacious-owl on tumblr (and I'm new to it, be patient).

Special thanks to the betareaders: **Project Team Beta** and **honeylime.**

*****I don't know if you guys noticed, but in the scenes of the Quarter Quell announcement, I made it almost like a "cinematic" style. I really want to know if it worked for you :D Thank you for the feedback!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The reaping was a humid summer day. The faces around the square were damp with sweat, their expressions scared as their eyes traveled to the stage, the whipping pole and the gallows. Everything in that scene was frightening, and Katniss' heart drummed erratically.

Peeta's arm was firmly around her, steadying her. She watched the small group gather in front of the stage, and the only feeling in the air, besides fear, was rage. Most of the people staring back at her felt betrayed.

Effie, donned completely in gold, tested the microphone. She attempted to make Haymitch wear a matching tie, but he couldn't handle the knot—he could barely stand, actually.

From the crowd around the teenagers, the families and friends watched the young taking their places. The common bet on the winner wasn't going to happen that year; most of them were there just to curse Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch.

Up on the stage, Peeta could see blond and black heads positioned by age. It was the first time in the district's history that the proportion of town and Seam kids was the same. Thanks to him, of course.

Madge held Delly's hand firmly, but they were both extremely scared. There were twenty girls; the odds weren't in their favor. Katniss met Madge's eyes while the anthem played, and the daughter of the mayor nodded calmly. If she could, Katniss would have smile. Madge knew it wasn't her fault.

Peeta's brother was fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt, purposely not looking up at the stage. Since the announcement, his family hadn't spoken to Peeta—his mother's orders. His older brother was too old to be a tribute, and his other brother was facing his last reaping. With Peeta as a Victor, the Mellarks thought the nightmare was going to end this year. If his brother was reaped, Peeta knew his mother would never talk to him again.

Rory was with the kids from the Seam, a bundle of dark heads in the middle of Peeta's town friends. He was growing to look like Gale, tall and strong, with a square jaw that would be extremely appreciated in the Capitol.

Katniss didn't find Gale in the crowd. She had searched for him, but he didn't want to see her. Maybe it was better this way.

"Ladies first!" Effie called, using her Capitol accent, as soon as the video had been played. She skipped her usual introduction about the Hunger Games and headed for the bowl. It was filled with fewer papers than usual, so it took her a minute to dig her gold-painted nails inside and grasp one.

Silence was palpable as she unfolded the paper and spoke a name.

* * *

The afternoon passed quickly. After the reaping, the crowd dispersed from the square, and the tributes' moment for a last good-bye was denied. District Twelve new tributes were rushed inside the train along with Katniss, Peeta and a non-stop complaining Effie—the drunk Haymitch was already inside.

Peeta tried, but neither of the tributes were willing to talk in that first encounter. He politely showed them their cabins and went back to his room, where Katniss was lying on the bed.

She inhaled sharply when she felt his weight next to her.

"They all think it's our fault," Katniss said, not moving to look at him.

"And what do you think?" Peeta rested his hand on her shoulder, and when she didn't protest, he pulled her closer. She slowly turned to face him, biting her lips. He offered her a feeble smile at seeing her red-rimmed eyes.

"I didn't want any of this to happen," she admitted softly.

"They are using us, Katniss. They are very good at it, actually." His chuckle surprised her, and she looked up. His mouth was lopsided, but his eyes were sad.

"What do you mean?" She frowned, supporting her body on her elbows to level their sight.

Peeta took a deep breath and combed a stray hair behind her ear. "This is not your fault. I want you to know it." He cupped her cheek. His hand was warm and she couldn't help but close her eyes. "Do you believe me?"

She could imagine his expression: pure concern and love. She rested her head on his chest and nodded. However, she didn't really know if he was right or not.

She dozed off nestled into his side, the train movements lulling them. Peeta didn't fall asleep, though. He waited a few hours to watch the recap of the reaping, wanting to see whom their friends—now tributes—would have to fight with in a deadly arena.

Katniss woke up to the mild sound of the television. She didn't ask as the District One symbol flashed on the TV, followed by the anthem. Peeta tightened his grasp around her and turned up the volume.

Gloss and Cashmere posed beside their nephew and another victor's daughter. The tributes for the 75th Hunger Games from District One were careers. Strong, beautiful, blond and mean careers.

Peeta searched for the notebook he had found while Katniss was asleep, writing down the names and characteristics from the tributes on the television. He looked up quickly when he heard Katniss' gasp. He also widened his eyes as the recap continued to show the next district.

Brutus rested his hand around his son's shoulder proudly. He had volunteered as tribute for District Two. They both looked to be beyond the thin line of sanity, with deadly eyes and cheers of joy. The female tribute was shorter, but equally strong. They seemed to cherish the rules of the Quarter Quell. _Two maniac killers, the tributes from Two._

The pair from Three was pitiful. Skinny and scared. Katniss felt that District Three wasn't a real challenge in that Games—and the thought of that little couple being murdered make her feel sick; the boy was shaking and the girl never looked straight to the camera, making it hard to notice the wicked smile behind her glasses as she shook Beetee's hand.

Katniss cleared her throat at the sight of Finnick, Annie and other victors from Four. She never felt comfortable around other escorts, principally the ones that trained her, but in that moment, as she watched Finnick hugging Annie after the names were called, she knew that they felt the same; Finnick and Annie were another couple lost in the middle of the Capitol's lust.

The female tribute from the coast district was a beautiful girl who had the bad luck to be the granddaughter of an old victor. Mags wasn't smiling when she hugged the girl.

Samite's boredom was palpable through the television while she forced a smile to her tributes. _Another redhead,_ Katniss thought, the flash of a smart, fast ghost invading her mind.

The morphling addicts in District Six looked insane when the name was called. The former female victor threw herself over the mayor, and both Katniss and Peeta held their breaths as the image was clearly edited to another victor presenting the tributes.

"Do you think …?" Katniss' question hung in the air, and Peeta heaved a sigh.

"Just one more body on their count."

They were silent while the recap continued, showing District Seven. For a reason Katniss couldn't place, Johanna looked insecure on television. She kept turning her head away from the cameras, fidgeting with her short hair. The truth that Katniss didn't know was that Johanna wanted to be back in the Capitol. The only person she cared about would be there.

The number Eight flashed on the TV and the camera cut to a boy clinging to the female victor.

"Is he her son?" Peeta's voice was angry, like most of the faces in District Eight's crowd. His question was answered by the colorful commentator from the Capitol, who couldn't suppress a tear as the District Eight male tribute was presented beside his mother as a mentor. The crowd in District Eight didn't applaud.

"That's sick," Peeta continued, his voice harsh. "They are forcing her to mentor her child."

"But wasn't that what Snow wanted? With Lara?"

"I didn't think he would actually do it …"

"You said it yourself," Katniss said calmly, her hand searching for Peeta's. "You said that they use us. What is a victor's child for people like Snow?"

He didn't answer; he knew the response would be "nothing."

When they looked back at the television, the badge of District Ten was already on. It would just confirm their suspicion.

Katniss and Peeta knew what Lara's ashen eyes meant. She was on heavy drugs as she watched her son, shaking like a small bird, climb the stairs to the stage. They knew that look because, for a few tough clients, they had surrendered to the appeal of those drugs.

It was obvious to entire Panem, then. Victors meant nothing to the Capitol.

"Do you want to watch ours?" Peeta asked as the District Eleven tributes were presented. Katniss didn't reply, but didn't move to turn off the TV.

They quietly watched Effie offering a golden handkerchief when Delly Cartwright climbed the stairs. The girl couldn't stop weeping, and the mayor had to signal so Effie would continue with the ceremony.

"And for the boys." Effie cleared her throat before reading the name. It echoed in the small room, hitting Katniss' heart like an arrow all over again. Peeta kissed her temple, but she didn't respond his hug.

That day, Katniss Everdeen had lost a good friend. Gale Hawthorne would never forgive her.

How could he do it when she would be the responsible for his brother's death?

* * *

The Mentors' Room was eerily quiet. It never had been a place to celebrate, but sometimes, when the tributes weren't busy killing each other, the mentors cracked a joke or shared a drink.

This year, though, nobody had a reason to laugh. With the painful exception of Enobaria and Brutus—the latter talking nonstop about how his son would easily win the Games—the rest of the mentors were silent, sharing only necessary bits of information. Even Cashmere hadn't been able to disguise the sadness at watching her nephew in the tributes parade.

Lara and Cecelia were the worst ones. They were mothers and were being forced to mentor their own children through certain death. None of them wanted to admit their son's days were numbered, but they were only twelve years old; what were their odds against deadly "Brutus Jr." or even the breathtaking career from Four? Cecelia was visibly shaking as the countdown started. Lara had her eyes on the screens, focusing on each tribute. Her son had been placed between two careers—a special touch from President Snow. She had made him promise to run as fast as he could as soon as the bell rang, and she just hoped the careers would ignore him while he did.

The countdown finished, and the mentors couldn't look anywhere else but the screens, seeing their tribute's arena for the first time.

It was a quilt of different landscapes. There were woods, a huge lake, a mountain and a desert land. Depending on the weather, all of them could be equally lethal.

During the interviews, a few days before the Games, Katniss had managed to approach Haymitch behind the stages.

_"How are we, Haymitch? With … everything," she said harshly, knowing that in the Capitol there was always someone watching. She desperately needed to know if the rebellion had any chance of happening after this._

_ "Sweetheart," Haymitch bellowed, opening his arms and engulfing her in a tight embrace. Her mind was processing what had just happened when he whispered into her hair. "Just focus on surviving. There's nothing we can do anymore." When they parted, his eyes were glistering with the mix of booze and false happiness. "I've heard you and the boy are planning to expand the family."_

_ "What?" She arched her eyebrows, not understanding what he had just said. And what was that about expanding family?_

_ "Good for you!" Haymitch shouted as he walked away, leaving a speechless Katniss behind._

That conversation played in Katniss' mind as she saw Delly running to the woods with a tiny backpack. During the training, they realized Delly's best talent was to run. She was fast indeed, and it would be her best chance to come out of the Games alive.

Peeta rested one hand on her shoulder, lost in his own thoughts. They quietly watched Delly racing like a lost child, getting further away from the bloodbath near the cornucopia. Her mind wasn't just on Delly, though; Katniss would cry that night because she knew that, no matter how she tried now, a rebellion was just a vague, far idea.

* * *

Haymitch paraded around the tables on wobbly legs. He and Peeta had been trying to find some sponsors for Delly. It was the third day, and she had already surpassed expectations.

Katniss was at a different table, talking to wealthy female sponsors—she hoped one of them would think Rory was attractive enough to buy him a parachute.

The Sponsors Dinner Hall was open twenty-four-seven during the Games, but it was only crowded at night, when most tributes were sleeping and the Capitol residents were alert.

Mentors from Nine, Eleven, Six and Seven weren't in the Hall that night. Their tributes had been slaughtered in the bloodbath by the typical pack of careers. Johanna was still in the Capitol, but she wasn't in the mood of "kissing rich ass," as she pointed out what those dinners were.

Haymitch swallowed the acidic taste of bile as he almost tripped over Beetee's table. The mentor from Three had the attention of different sponsors, though he waited for Haymitch to walk away before he continued to talk. The old mentor snorted before taking a deep breath, aiming to get out of the hall as quickly as he could.

"Do you need help getting to your room?" Peeta was suddenly next to him, holding his arm. Haymitch murmured an excuse and headed for the exit.

He had drank too much after knowing nobody would sponsor Delly if she didn't make it to the final eight. The elevator ride back to the floor where the mentors were housed made him sick; the small plant in the elevator was a different color when he stepped out on the right floor.

After a cool glass of water, Haymitch steeled himself for the talk he was avoiding for weeks. He had watched Lara stomp out of the Sponsors Hall an hour before, yelling at some fat merchant that a twelve-year-old also deserved a chance. Haymitch knew she would be in her room.

He paid an Avox to open Lara's bedroom door for him. The rules for interaction between mentors were slack compared to the ones between tributes. He peeked inside to make sure Johanna wasn't there and closed the door behind him. Steam flooded from under the bathroom door, and the fog warmed the room. Haymitch saw a television on the left wall showing Reynard fast asleep near a rock. The boy had bruised his knees and was thinner than before, but he was still alive. The way Reynard's face reminded him of the Seam kids was a sting in his heart.

Lara's gasp of surprise was louder than her sobs when Haymitch opened the bathroom. She turned off the shower and opened the glass stall, her hands closed in fists at the intrusion. The vapor from her shower started to dissipate, revealing Haymitch's somber form.

She didn't bother covering herself. Her skin erupted in shivers as cold air entered from the room. "What are you doing here?" The tears were clear in her voice.

"I need to know." Haymitch stepped closer to her, and she flinched. Her eyes focused on everything but him, and for the first time, she felt herself exposed under his stare.

"I need to know, and you can't lie to me," he hissed at her. His nights were endless nightmares filled with the doubt if Reynard, the boy who would die at any moment, was his son.

Lara felt her legs go limp, and she awkwardly slumped to the floor. It was cold against her bare haunches. Haymitch started to move to help her but stopped before he could reach her body.

Red-rimmed eyes locked with his, and her words echoed in the tiled bathroom.

"Reynard is not your son. You can sleep without this burden." Each word carried bitterness and shame.

Haymitch didn't know what he felt at the confession. Part of him wanted to be relieved, but he was ashamed and even angry.

His watch beeped and they heard a small sound of a cannon coming from the television in the room. Lara rushed to the door, but Haymitch stopped her, shaking his head.

"The boy from Five," he said quickly, seeing her despair. On his watch was the message announcing the newest victim of the Hunger Games.

Lara covered her chest self-consciously and turned her back to him. "You should leave."

Haymitch glanced one last time at the boy on the TV before leaving the room.

* * *

Katniss heard the commotion in the Mentors' Room before she opened the door. Curses were being shouted by a woman, whom she guessed was Samite. There was the clear sound of wrestling and fighting, followed by Brutus' guffaw. She rolled her eyes, annoyed, but rushed to the door as soon as Peeta's voice echoed in the hall.

"You fucker!" Samite yelled as Cecilia and Cashmere tried to hold her still. She was thrashing and shouting, kicking the air and trying desperately to break free.

Across from her, Beetee was helping Peeta get up. Katniss' husband had the angry imprint of scratches down his cheek.

Katniss ignored Samite and ran to touch Peeta's face. "What happened?"

Peeta seemed as clueless as she was.

"Her female tribute just lost her finger on a snare _your_ tribute mounted for small game," Lara explained to them. "She'll bleed to death. It's the second Hunger Games that her tribute will have died because of Twelve's male tribute's stupidity." Lara offered him a pack of ice that emerged from the main table.

"What do you mean?" Katniss wasn't following the logic, but Peeta's eyes darkened with understanding. Cecelia and Cashmere finally managed to drag the uncontrollable Samite out of the room.

"Foxface …" Peeta whispered. The image of the girl's emaciated body being lifted in the air while her red hair shined flashed before Peeta's eyes. He should have thought about it earlier; Samite hated him because he outfoxed—or kind of, since it wasn't a conscious move—her tribute. District Five was not known for many victors and Foxface had probably been the best chance Samite had of having a victor. She had thought Peeta would die from his injury, and Katniss and Cato would end up in a bloody battle. Then, fresh and ready to finish the winner, Foxface would be the champion of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. Until Peeta spoiled her plans.

Katniss nodded in his direction, her stomach turning a little. She looked up at the screen in time to see the redheaded girl faint from blood loss.

The cannon fired minutes later.

* * *

A delicate yet firm pat on Katniss' shoulder pushed her out of her sleep. She lazily blinked to find Peeta's sad eyes staring back at her.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, fearing his response. His lips shook as he spoke, but he didn't cry.

"Delly is dead."

Katniss made room for him in their bed at the Capitol. She had been sleeping for a couple of hours, and if it wasn't Peeta waking her up, her nightmares would soon.

"It was peaceful," he admitted softly against her chest, his voice breaking a little. "A snake bite. She fainted before her heart stopped."

Katniss nodded above his head, threading her fingers into his golden hair. She held him while his tears wet her shirt.

Part of her wondered how much time she had left before it was Peeta comforting her over Rory's death.

* * *

Peeta entered the common dinner room still feeling dizzy. He had barely slept in the past couple of nights, internally rehearsing how he'd face Delly's family once he got back to Twelve.

In the corner of the room, Haymitch, Johanna and Beetee were whispering. Haymitch looked fairly sober, drowning himself with coffee. That, plus the fact that Johanna wasn't looking at Haymitch with disgust, alerted Peeta something was going on. He ignored the other victors in the room and moved to sit next to Beetee.

"Good morning," he offered, but Johanna, Haymitch and Beetee stopped talking at the same time. They eyed Peeta for a moment before responding with casual greetings.

Someone called Beetee from the other side of the room, and he got up to leave. Johanna drummed her fingers on the table.

"What is going on?" Peeta asked suspiciously. His heart started to accelerate with the possibilities. Maybe the rebellion—

"Things new mentors wouldn't understand," Haymitch replied dryly.

Johanna rolled her eyes. "We're setting a winner. Or trying to. Fucking careers aren't getting this one," she added after looking at Enobaria's table. The victor from Two licked her middle finger while staring at Johanna. Peeta could see a vein pumping in Johanna's temple. "I hate that woman."

"But … how?" Peeta asked.

"Sponsors." Johanna looked down at her cooling tea.

"Shut up, Johanna," Haymitch gritted, his voice a dry slur.

"Little Mockingjay can't do anything. Her friend's brother is dead, and everybody knows it."

Peeta scrutinized both Haymitch and Johanna's expressions. Johanna's tributes were dead, but Rory was still alive. Last night, when a career killed the female tribute from Eight, he even managed to make the final eight competitors. Though, by the way Haymitch avoided meeting his eyes, Peeta knew that if the mentors were selecting a winner in the pool of the non-careers tributes, Rory wasn't their choice.

"If I were you, I wouldn't say a word to Katniss." Haymitch's words just confirmed Peeta's fears. "We have a plan and … the boy just isn't part of it."

Peeta knew Haymitch could be horrible, but right now, he felt like spitting on his face. He left the room without any more words.

"That was close." Johanna sighed as they watched Peeta slamming the door. "But he probably will hate you forever now."

"Not forever." Haymitch grimaced while he chugged his coffee. "Just until the final cannon fires."

* * *

Cecelia's face was peaceful as two Avoxes carried her body out of her room. The night before, Brutus' son had killed her child. The young tribute from Eight had proved to be extremely clever. He was hiding in the dunes of the desert landscape, sleeping in holes, eating small insects and drinking rainwater and his own urine. He would have lasted longer if the career from Two hadn't won thermal goggles from generous sponsors. After that, finding the boy hidden in the sand had been fast.

But his death wasn't.

Brutus' son turned out to be a psychopath. He watched the life dripping from the young boy's mouth along with his blood. He strangled him five times, stopping at the very end, waiting until the boy caught his breath to repeat the action. The Capitol audience went mad with cheers.

Cecelia watched her son's death with a sinister calm. She had disappeared to her room right after, and nobody had followed her.

The autopsy would reveal the cause of death, but everybody knew what her slashed wrists meant. None of the other mentors noted the discreet steam of blood dripping from Cecelia's head.

Lara watched her face for the last time as the Avoxes disappeared into the elevator.

She smiled sadly and returned to the Mentors' Room.

* * *

"Shit, shit, shit, shit …" Johanna chanted the curse to herself as she stormed out of the room. She had started to run before the cannon fired, pushing two Avoxes by the door.

The way to the mentors' quarters seemed longer, and Johanna stumbled against servants and Avoxes.

"Go, go, go!" She almost screamed in the elevator, the ride being unbearably slow.

The metal door opened with a high-pitched ring, and Johanna rushed for the hall, desperate to reach Lara's bedroom.

After what happened to Cecelia, the mentors were always wary around Lara. They feared she'd try for the same fate when the inevitable happened.

Johanna knocked furiously on the locked door. "Lara? Lara, open up!"

When the first mutt bit Reynard's skinny leg, Johanna was already out of the Mentors' Room. Lara was taking a shower—it was one of the few reasons she stopped watching the screens. She couldn't have guessed the modified animals would find Reynard's trail in that moment.

A confused and puzzled Lara opened the door, her hair wet and dripping from the shower. She was protected by a towel, and under it, she only had started to put on her underwear.

The sight almost killed Johanna; she didn't know. Lara hadn't been watching while she took her shower.

"What happened?" Lara sounded a little alarmed, and Johanna froze. She had come down here to comfort Lara, not to be the one to tell her that her son had been brutally assassinated. "Jo?"

Johanna couldn't speak. She stood there, mouth dry and lips parted, trying to find the right thing to say.

Realization sneaked its way up Lara's spine, icing her heart and limbs. She dropped her towel and covered her mouth, one hand darting to the doorframe to hold her in place. Johanna snapped out of her trance and held Lara when her legs gave away. She closed the door behind them, placing the hyperventilating Lara on the bed.

"Talk to me," Johanna whispered, biting her lips. Lara's eyes were a musky brown, the life and shine dripping from them with quiet tears. "Please, talk to me," Johanna begged, both her hands on Lara's cheeks.

The door hit against the wall with force, startling Johanna. Lara didn't move. Haymitch was panting when he entered the room, cursing under his breath. He had tried to follow Johanna, but his form was considerably worse than the District Seven Victor.

Haymitch and Johanna shared a knowing look.

"She … she just …" Johanna started, but Haymitch didn't need any kind of explanations. He couldn't imagine the kind of pain Lara was feeling now, and he wanted to protect her from it. It was foolish, but he still cared.

His tired body sat next to Lara on the bed, his arm winding itself around her shoulders. He pulled her closer, and she lifelessly responded, her head falling with a soft thud on his shoulder.

Johanna felt jealousy mixing with angst in the pit of her stomach.

Haymitch didn't talk. He calmly rubbed her exposed back until Johanna found a shirt to cover Lara's partial nudity.

"We'll take turns," Johanna said, looking at Haymitch. "She can't be alone."

"She won't. The Games are almost over, and we'll be out of here." He didn't divert his eyes from Lara, whose body heat was warming his side. Haymitch had thought about holding her close like this again, but never in this situation.

The phone rang and Johanna picked it up quickly. Finnick wanted to know how Lara was. He and Annie weren't mentors this year, remaining in Four. Johanna mumbled a response and hung up the phone.

"Call me if she needs anything."

"Johanna, if you want to stay here …" Haymitch said, but he was looking at Lara, helping her lie on the bed.

"I'll be back later. Just …" Johanna looked insecure and hugged her arms, meeting Haymitch's gaze for a moment. "Just don't fall asleep, okay?"

He nodded.

It was just hours later that Lara finally opened her eyes, confused for a moment before remembering everything. Haymitch held her while she trembled and bawled, cursing the Capitol, the Games and even himself.

Lara fell asleep again while soothed by Haymitch's words.

* * *

It felt like a direct punch in the gut. All the air in her lungs escaped and none made its way back. Katniss searched blindly for support behind her, stopping herself from stumbling to the floor. She realized it was Peeta's hand holding her when she finally unglued her eyes from the screen.

The careers had found Rory's track. They had done it before, but never with him so close. Rory was less than a mile away from the vicious pack, with a broken finger and dazed by a three-day fever. Peeta and Katniss had tried to find sponsors for the Hawthorne, but everybody was betting on the careers now. So when Brutus' son found Rory's careless footmarks by a squashy river, the smile he flashed to the cameras felt like a piercing jab in Katniss' heart. She knew it now; and honestly, deeply, with all of her corrupted soul, she wished for a painless death for her friend's brother.

"Katniss …" Peeta touched her shoulder, tilting his head toward the exit of the Mentors' Room. Katniss shook her head slightly. The least she could do was watch. "You don't need to see this …" Peeta tried again and tugged on her sleeve.

He was wrong, though. She _needed_ to see, to watch, to witness what her actions had caused.

Peeta's weren't the only eyes focused on her. Haymitch was right behind him, and his eyes showed the last thing Katniss wanted to see: pity. Wiress—the other mentor from Three who had barely made an appearance during the Games—spoke vividly with Beetee in the corner of the room. They still had one tribute playing, but their eyes expressed sympathy when Katniss risked a look at their direction.

"You can wait for me in the room." Katniss' voice was weak, small, a stark contrast to Brutus' loud whispers with Enobaria. She clenched her jaw and refused to spare a glance at them. Peeta tightened his grasp on her shoulder.

"I'll stay here."

Katniss breathed, relieved by his answer. She hated to show weakness, and she was thankful Peeta could see right through her mask. She accepted when he offered her a chair, resting one protective hand on her shoulder. He stood behind her, blocking the District Two Mentors' grin, and he never let go of her hand while they watched the scene unfolding in front of them.

The biggest career crowed when he saw Rory's dark hair between the trees. A light rain had started to fall in the arena, which led to a fresh trail for the careers to follow.

Katniss gulped as the pack approached the weak, emaciated Rory. When the camera caught his glassy silver eyes, all she could see was Gale's face.

_It's your fault_.

A sharp knife dug into Rory's thigh, blooming scarlet over his wrecked trousers. The girl from Two held him up while her partner twisted the blade, Rory's desperate screams filling the arena—and the Mentors' Room.

The same knife was going for a second round on Rory's other leg when a quick and merciful arrow lodged in the boy's neck.

"What the fuck?" the career from Two shouted, going crazy at seeing his sick fun being denied.

Mags' granddaughter, the seventeen-year-old girl from Four, lowered her bow. Wordlessly, she shared a glance with Brutus' son—a glance full of promises and challenges.

Everything in the arena was silent for a moment, the other careers tensed while watching the stalemate. The cannon fire startled them, and the boy from Two laughed, kicking Rory's lifeless body aside. The careers followed their leader's laugh nervously. Mags' granddaughter casted her eyes down and kept her lips in a thin line.

Katniss watched as Rory was lifted from the arena, his blood dripping with his last tears. She saw the dull grey of his eyes for the last time.

_It's your fault_.

Peeta's warm finger wiping her tears alerted her of where she was. She swallowed dryly and stood up, following Peeta's lead to their room.

Next to Beetee, Wiress mumbled, "Boom-boom."

Haymitch searched for his flask.

Brutus was strangely quiet as Peeta and Katniss exited the room.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow, that was a tough one to write … I promise more surprises next chapter. The final battle in the Games and some equally intense events in the Capitol!

Thank you for reading!

Special thanks to the betareaders: **Project Team Beta **and **honeylime.**

I'm sagacious-owl on tumblr ;D


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry for the delay! Okay, I'm not _that_ sorry because these last couple of weeks were dedicated to Prompts in Panem, and I managed to participate in three different prompts: Greed, Lust and Envy. You can check out my stories, _"Red Stains on the Cotton Fields", "Giving In" _and _"Best Way to Decay" _on my profile page.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

The career's camp was quiet. Only discreet crackles from the bonfire and the occasional breeze perturbed the silent night. The female tribute from Four was on guard, sharpening her metallic arrow. Every five minutes or so, she glanced beyond the fire and landed her eyes on the snoring form of Brutus' son. He slept carelessly away from his weapons, which were spread clumsily around him. This demonstration of self-confidence—and mild stupidity—made the girl's knuckles turn white around her arrow, her teeth gritting.

A few feet away from the warming fire, the couple from One held each other, fighting against the cold with their body heat. Mags' granddaughter would have been doing the same with her district partner, but tonight was her watch. The acute scrape of her rock sliding against the metal was a feeble distraction to her racing heart, and her eyes kept traveling to the tribute from Two.

An alert sequence tuned in the Mentors' Room, and the ones awake in the early morning could see the girl's heart accelerating and her breathing growing unstable. Though for someone not seeing those reports, the girl seemed calm with her steady sea green eyes.

Her whetstone fell on the leaves with a slight thud. She was meticulously quiet as she made her way to the fire. Circling the heat, she knelt next to the male tribute from Two, who smiled arrogantly in his sleep. Who would challenge him, anyway? The beeping in the Mentors' Room was loud as she raised the sharp arrow between slim hands.

The girl from Two was the first to wake up to the gurgling noises. Illuminated by the orange fire, the girl watched her partner spitting blood, an arrow lodged in the base of his neck.

Mags' granddaughter's heartbeat decelerated, coming back to a normal pace while she saw the boy struggling for breath. Her world was calm and peaceful. She didn't react when the knife gashed her neck and accepted her death by the hands of the female career from Two.

The commotion startled the other careers. From a safe distance, the couple from One watched the female tribute from Four fall over the boy from Two—both covered in blood. They didn't warn the girl from Two when the remaining career from Four jumped over her.

They were fighting barehanded when the first cannon fired—Brutus' son was still battling for air in a mix of hot blood, cold metal and sticky saliva.

"Cut the crap!" shouted the boy from One. The tributes from Four and Two barely diverted their attention long enough to look at him. He yelled louder this time, "The brat from Three is still out there!"

The struggling pair suddenly stopped, the mention of District Three calling their attention. "You heard me," the boy from One continued, now a little calmer. "She's smarter than the four of us together. We kill her, and then this stupid alliance is done."

The tribute from Four nodded, his hand trembling around the girl's neck. The female from Two twisted out from his grip, breathing heavily. "Just this girl," said the boy from Four. "And I'm out."

As if to seal their arrangement, Brutus' son's cannon fired. The blond couple from One and the tribute from Two walked away to give space for the hovercraft. The remaining tribute from Four knelt next to his deceased partner.

"You were good," he whispered. "I know you couldn't stand him, but—" His voice faltered. He cleared his dry throat and held her hand. Even though her body was awkwardly dropped over the dead tribute from Two, it felt like a solemn scene. "I'd have helped. You know I would." Warm tears gave him away. "Goodbye, M."

Far from the bloody camp by the lake, the tribute from Three waited patiently for the sunrise. She had found a wrecked house in the heart of the forest and was controlling her curiosity to explore it. In her small backpack, she had a glass bottle, nails and half a pair of scissors. A few hours after the sun showed up, she entered the abandoned house. The petite girl didn't flinch at the sight of the dried blood covering the rooms, marks from the battle that finished the tributes from Five and Three—her own partner. She meticulously searched each room, discarding apparently important items, like a knife and an empty water bottle. But she looked in ecstasy when she found a linen cloth and went completely mad when she laid her hands on a soup can. Her grin flashed under her cracked glasses, and the girl quickly exited the shack.

In the Mentor's Room, Beetee smiled, and Wiress yelled "Boom-boom!"

* * *

The invitation for the mentors came in the early morning. Peeta answered the door with a yawn, sleepily nodding to the Avox. Katniss saw his tangled curls moving as he shook his head.

"It's the grand finale," he said firmly, his blue gaze suddenly free from tiredness. Katniss bit her lip, braided her hair, and started to get up.

Ten minutes later, they were marching to the Mentors' Room. The hallways were atypically empty, not even the regular guards next to the doors. Peeta reached for Katniss' hand when they entered the elevator, but her arms remained tight around her chest.

She tripped back inside the metal doors when they opened, a hurried Haymitch dragging her back and pushing the button to the Rooms' floor.

"What's happening?" Katniss huffed, already reaching for the stop button. The force Haymitch used to slap her hand made her take a step back, baffled at his gesture. Peeta stepped between Katniss and Haymitch, his hand rushing to prevent any other action from the older mentor.

Haymitch rolled his eyes and spoke harshly, "Don't ask and do _exactly_ as I say." He glared at Peeta and turned his back to the couple. Something in Haymitch's eyes made his order irrefutable, and Peeta swallowed dryly.

Katniss was scowling and massaging her hand, ready to argue. Peeta approached her to whisper, "Do as he says. Something is off." Her lips were a thin line as she reluctantly nodded.

The doors opened, and Haymitch led them out ungracefully.

"Third door in the left hall. Go!" He disappeared down a different corridor before they could ask further.

Katniss' heart pounded fast, and she felt Peeta's fingers close around her hand, both of them heading to the left.

* * *

The silver parachute reflected against the early sun. Bouncing on her feet, the tribute from Three grasped her present with greedy hands. A strong, peculiar smell filled the air when she opened the shining package. She hurried east to the forest, ready to set her trap, the parachute protected in her small backpack.

It was gunpowder.

* * *

She appeared from a random room, startling both Katniss and Peeta. Unlike Haymitch, she didn't touch the younger mentors as her eyes showed them the way through a room.

"What is—"

"Don't ask. Just follow," Samite said over her shoulder, her dark-green eyes allowing no room for questions. Peeta closed his mouth and followed the redhead; his fingers were itching under Katniss' nervous grip.

They practically raced through a maze of corridors, Samite's pace as fast as discretion would allow. They entered darkened rooms, crossed narrow halls and endless stairs—always down. Peeta struggled not to fall behind, his bad leg screaming in pain.

"Wait a minute," Katniss called before Samite could type the key code in a panel. "Peeta—we need a minute."

Peeta nodded and took a deep breath, his hand rubbing his thigh.

Samite heaved a sigh and rubbed her eyes, and for the first time Katniss noticed the dark circles under them. "We don't have a minute. Get your shit together, Mellark!" Her face lacked the sting of her words. All Katniss and Peeta could read on the woman's face was fear.

His hand landed heavily on Katniss' shoulder.

"I'm okay. Let's go."

* * *

Haymitch opened the door silently, but his groan was audible when he saw Johanna and Lara still in the room.

"We need to leave. Now!"

"She's not going to make it by herself!" Johanna barked angrily, pointing to the semi-catatonic Lara on the bed, her lips moving soundlessly. "It took me half an hour to dress her!" Johanna complained.

Since Reynard's death, it seemed that Lara had given up life herself. She only ate and dressed because Haymitch or Johanna was there forcing and coaxing her. At night, she struggled with nightmares and thrashed in an endless fight. Neither Haymitch nor Johanna could blame her; what did they know about losing a child?

Haymitch glanced at his watch and knelt in front of Lara, meeting her light brown eyes. Gulping down his need for liquor, he spoke, "Lara, you're going to follow us. I'm sorry about your brother and Reynard; your family never deserved that. But there are still people out there who need you. Katniss and Peeta are alive, but only if we do our part. Please, come with us."

During his speech, she had focused her eyes down on the floor, lowering her head. After he finished, her chin slowly lifted and her lips trembled with words. "I'm sorry," she muttered in the slightest voice. "I'm sorry," she repeated louder, her voice in a lower tone. Haymitch wasn't sure what she was apologizing for, and part of him knew it wasn't just about the last few days. He pushed that thought aside and helped Lara to her feet.

"Let's go," Johanna called from the door, knowing their time was short. Lara wordlessly followed them, her auburn hair in her classic double braid.

They were heading to a parallel corridor when they ran into Blight, one of the mentors from Seven.

"Jo," he greeted his district colleague with a shy smile. "I was looking for you. They called us all; mandatory viewing today."

Johanna's expression fell and her heart accelerated. She exchanged a quick but meaningful look with Haymitch; Lara never lifted her eyes from the floor.

"We'll be right there," Haymitch inserted, nodding towards Lara. Blight's smile turned discreetly upward in understanding. He headed for the elevator with a small wave in Johanna's direction.

"Johanna …" Haymitch started. "We can't—"

"It's okay. I know we can't." She didn't let him finish, offering her arm to Lara while they headed for the stairs.

Their way to the underground tunnels was somberly quiet.

* * *

The careers had followed the marks to the heart of the forest.

"Do you think she's in there?" the boy from One asked, his hand ghosting over his knife. His partner was one step ahead of him, also ready to attack.

"There is only one way to find out." The career from Four was tired of that stupid alliance. He wanted to kill the girl from Three himself, so he'd be able to finish what he had started with the last tribute from Two—who was warily treading behind her companions.

The couple from One entered the house, followed by the boy from Four.

"The stair is blocked. She's not up there," the tribute from Four called, walking around the small room and the destroyed staircase in the corner, the wooden steps rotten. The small mezzanine above them didn't show any movement.

The tributes from One checked the second room, their backs touching. "Clear," the girl called, going back to the main room.

Just when the last career entered the cabin, they heard it.

A distinct sound of a match being lit, and suddenly the can was in the middle of the room.

Sharp pieces of scrap metal, crushed glass and the blades of a pair of scissors filled the soup can. The linen cloth connected everything, and the careers didn't have a chance to see the gunpowder at the bottom.

"What the—"

The girl from Two didn't finish her sentence as the can exploded in a fountain of deadly metal and glass.

* * *

"What was that?" Katniss' voice was muffled by the echo of an explosion and light tremors in the walls.

"Shit …" Samite opened a door that led them to a large tunnel, powder and small pieces of plaster falling like a soft rain. She cleared her throat. "There's a train at the end of the tunnel." She held Peeta's hand and forced him to look at her. "It's programmed to your destination. Be careful—the train is fast. Go and don't wait for me."

Peeta nodded and turned to run for the train. Voices from higher floors were approaching their location.

"What about you?" Katniss asked, torn between following her husband or Samite, who was going back the way they had entered.

"I'll see you at the hovercraft. Don't fuck things up, Mockingjay."

Katniss could swear she winked at her before disappearing into the tiled door. She hurried to catch up with Peeta.

Peeta waited for her to enter the train before pushing a red button next to the door. They heard the metal clinging as the doors closed, the train starting to move.

It was a cargo train, and there were no chairs for them. Peeta sat on a wooden box and made room for Katniss, winding his arm around her when she sat. They silently watched the lights blinking at the windows while they gained speed. It wouldn't be a smooth ride, with the train not prepared for delicate cargo.

"That explosion …" Katniss started, not looking up to him. "What was it?"

"I …" Peeta was unsure of what to think or say; he knew Katniss would be worried about her family now. If they weren't safe here, what would happen in the districts? "I think it was the Mentors' Room," he responded, knowing he couldn't lie to his wife. Katniss was quiet for a moment, her mind seething with endless possibilities of what that meant for them; but she was sure of one thing.

"They tried to kill us." It wasn't a question. Peeta took a deep breath and nodded, tightening his arm around her. Katniss shook her head, getting up from his grasp. "They really want to kill us." She wasn't looking at him, wobbling to look closer at the window. Her back was to Peeta, so she couldn't see the countdown that had started at the panel next to the door.

"Katniss, that's why we can't give up. I don't know what is going on, but Haymitch obviously has a plan!" He stood to touch her shoulder, but saw the red numbers from the corner of his eyes, his attention changing to the panel. Katniss still faced the window, her thoughts rambling.

"Sorry if I'm not reacting properly to all these sick events." She bit her lips at seeing the cement tunnel walls blurring her sight.

"Katniss …" Peeta's hand went to her direction, but his eyes were fixed on the panel.

"Just stop talking now, I—"

"Katniss, wait." Peeta had a suspicion of what those numbers could mean, and it wasn't good. "We need to sit down, the train—"

_"Full speed activated."_

The robotic voice sounded before Peeta could make Katniss turn for him.

The lights at the window stabilized as the speed increased, the blur developing to a continuous white hue.

Only a small bloodstain from the inside disturbed the flowing picture.

* * *

It was a restless sleep that ended with a throbbing pain in her head. Everything seemed to be loudly screaming, and her limbs felt numb, anesthetized. Her mouth was dry, like cotton balls hedged her tongue and throat, and even though she opened her mouth, no words came out.

Katniss blinked rapidly when she felt a warm hand on her arm, honestly hoping it was Peeta. A tall, white-suited man smiled down at her, but she didn't smile back. Confused, she looked around her, seeing she was in some kind of medical lab—Katniss _hated_ to wake up in such places. The last thing she remembered was the Capitol, the mentor's call, the train and—

"I'm Dr. Aurelius," the man said, landing his clipboard on a table next to Katniss' bed. "You're at District Thirteen. You had a concussion and were brought here to …"

She felt a wave of nausea hit her, and his voice trailed off. Her head hurt and she rubbed her eyes, the man's information trying to sink in her disturbed mind.

Thirteen? Concussion?

"Mrs. Mellark? Do you need any help?"

When she could focus on the doctor again, his hand was firmly on her arm, steadying her weak form. She stuttered with her question as she saw a familiar face approaching her bed from behind the doctor.

Seeing her awake, Peeta ran to her bed, practically shoving Dr. Aurelius aside to take a better look at Katniss. "You're awake," Peeta said almost to himself after cupping her face. "I was so worried. Your head started to bleed and all I could think of was the cave, and suddenly we were at the station, and I had to carry you to the hovercraft, and, and …"

The kind doctor rested his hand on Peeta's shoulder, and by the tone of his voice, it looked like he already knew Peeta. "Just breathe, Peeta. She's fine, like I told you."

Katniss was watching the scene unfolding in front of her with a mix of curiosity and irritation—she just wanted to go back to sleep and get rid of this headache.

"You see," Aurelius continued, giving more space so Peeta could sit next to Katniss on the bed. "When you arrived at the hovercraft, the paramedics didn't know who to attend first: you or your husband. You were unconscious, but Peeta was mad in his preoccupation." He chuckled, and Peeta blushed; Katniss was still utterly confused.

Peeta cleared his throat, helping her to lie back in the pillow. "We're safe, now. The victors had been planning with Thirteen for years. We'll talk more when you wake up."

"Peeta …" Katniss managed her first word, but her eyelids were getting heaver. "Our family …"

He kissed her temple then, caressing her face. "They're in Twelve and secure. Just sleep now, okay?"

She embraced the sleep with the same easiness she accepted his touch.

* * *

The Mentors' Room had exploded during the final battle in the Hunger Games, killing most of the mentors of that year. The Capitol was reporting the attack was made by rebellious victors who had tried to defy the government, but were arrested and now securely away from society. Lara and Beetee were identified as leaders of the attack, other names were on the list as prisoners, like Johanna, Samite, Wiress and Haymitch. The others were reported as victims of the obnoxious rebel attack.

In the Capitol, parades for the poor victors were being held, especially for Katniss and Peeta—the perfect couple who had gotten married in breathtaking style less than a year ago. In the districts, the other victors had almost won back the sympathy of the people, though any word about rebellion was squelched with extreme brutality.

The truth was that Snow didn't know exactly what had happened to the "prisoner" victors, except that they had disappeared the morning of the explosion. Portraying them as high-level prisoners was better for the Capitol's image than admitting they had escaped right under its nose. The intelligence unit of the Capitol was madly searching for any trace of the fugitives, but they would use that information in favor of the national government. Identifying Katniss and Peeta as dead was just a touch Snow had added, because he was sure to make it come true as soon as he found the couple; though the rebels would be blamed for killing the beloved sweethearts, and not the Capitol.

In Thirteen, the rebels were planning their counterattack. They hadn't expected the Capitol to use the attack as a publicity weapon. However, the rebels were planning to use this against them, because most of the districts were unsatisfied with the Capitol—following the rebel victors or not.

Beetee was the chief of intelligence and information in the underground district, gathering and editing videos that would show how the Capitol was toying with the country and was actually responsible for the attack and many other deaths—such as the security video that showed a peacekeeper invading Cecelia's room and shooting her, in an attempt to make the victor's image unstable, showing them as rebels, killers and suicidal.

Plutarch, Katniss' first client in the Capitol, was also in Thirteen, being revealed as one of the masterminds who planned their escape from the city. He also was the one responsible for recording new videos and propos that would stain the Capitol's image and restore the victors', helping to inspire anger and indignation in the districts against the dictatorship. Katniss and Peeta would be crucial weapons in that play, showing the Capitol citizens that they were not only alive, but victims of Snow's plans.

When Peeta had told Katniss about what was really going on, she had panicked at first, thinking they couldn't do anything to stop the Capitol. That was until Peeta told her about Thirteen's bombs and army, and how an entire population was ready to face Snow's government. Hope had once more crept into her heart, until she remembered her family.

"They are as safe as they can be," Peeta had said. "For them, we're dead. They are not important to the Capitol anymore, so there's no reason for them to be a target. We have informants in every district. Prim and your mother are fine." He had kissed her cheek, the first night Katniss had left the infirmary. "They're sad, but fine. When it's all over, we'll be able to go back."

Haymitch, Beetee and Samite were constantly in meetings with the chiefs of Thirteen, principally President Coin. Beetee had tried to include the newest victor in the escape, but after the explosion in the arena, the girl from Three didn't have a chance to disappear. She had been crowned Victor a week before, being forced to read a text begging forgiveness from the Capitol because of the reckless acts of the former mentors.

Lara was also part of the plans, because she had been one of the few couriers between Thirteen and the Capitol for years. Even in a deep grief for her son, she was managing to help the cause as much as she could. Johanna was skeptical, but she had dreamed about defeating the Capitol for years; being part of the council was the least she could do to help.

Even with more districts joining the cause, assisted by mentors placed in key areas —like Finnick in Four—the chiefs in Thirteen knew something was missing. Coin, the president, a woman in her early fifties, knew that wasn't enough to inspire the hate she needed, principally in the Capitol and districts One and Two, the strongest ones. Coin knew she needed more to show the depth of Snow's mechanism and evil, to show the districts and the people of Panem that fighting against the dictatorship wasn't a choice, but a duty as a responsible citizen.

Every time Coin saw the Mellarks hand in hand, her mind raced with ideas.

* * *

It had been almost a month since the victors had arrived in Thirteen. Katniss had spent a few days at the infirmary because of her head injury, but she had been reassigned to a compartment with Peeta shortly after that. The doctors still constantly requested her for tests, but that was being done to most victors. Neither Coin nor Plutarch were willing to let any of them to get sick when they needed the victor's faces for the upcoming propos.

The armies in Thirteen were finishing their training, and those responsible for each group were waiting for orders to finally attack. Those orders would come from the high council, comprised of the generals in Thirteen, Coin and victors. This council knew they needed something else before the attack on the Capitol and districts, but they couldn't agree on what exactly was missing in their plan.

Plutarch and Haymitch argued they should shoot propos with the victors and broadcast them at the same time the attack was made. Lara wanted to expose the Escorts as a manipulative weapon used by the Capitol, and show the population the victors were always a target. The generals in Thirteen didn't really believe in propos, and just wanted to recruit more soldiers in partner districts. Samite wanted to collect more information from the Capitol, and Johanna didn't give a fuck about those ideas. Coin listened to the opinions carefully, her own plan taking form in her mind.

After a particularly tiring meeting, Lara was strolling back to her compartment, frustrated with the results. Coin didn't seem to think the Escorts would be such a revelation to the people, as if those years of her life hadn't been horrific enough to inspire rage. Combining that rejection with her loss, Lara was far from being in a good mood.

Before she touched her doorknob, she knew someone was in her room. She had requested for a single room, not wanting to share her problems with Haymitch or Johanna. She was afraid to face one and terrified to open her heart to the other. Thankfully for her recovering mind, both of them had been understanding.

That is, until today.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. The light was on and a lonely figure sat on her bed, his feet on her chair. Coin had agreed to give her a single room, but it was suffocating how small it was, letting the occupant almost touch opposite walls while lying on the bed.

Haymitch glanced up at her, being wise enough not to smile. He had left the meeting before Coin could argue against Lara's point, knowing she'd end up in her room any time. Though Lara was better than she'd been in the Capitol, he knew she was still fighting her inner devils and fears.

"I thought you'd show up earlier." She didn't look at him as she spoke, locking the door and motioning for him to let her sit on the chair. He placed his feet on the bed and silently observed as she sat, her braids falling down her slim back.

"I needed some time to think. But… how—how are you?"

The simple question seemed extremely out of place, as if Haymitch was actually making fun of her. Considering all their past, their history and the recent events, how did he dare to ask her that?

Or how did_ she_ dare to defy him after he had saved her life, practically carrying her out of that building in the Capitol?

"As fine as I can be," she answered quietly, idly playing with one of her braids. Far from the Capitol's ornaments, her white hairs were starting to show under their auburn companions.

"I just want to say I'm sorry." Haymitch took a deep breath, passing his trembling hand though his dark hair. Without his liquor, it was difficult to concentrate on anything else, and the last weeks had been hell for him in so many levels. "We couldn't even retrieve the body to give your son a decent funeral. I'm sorry about that too." He knew the words were wrong when she didn't reply. She discreetly wiped the stubborn tears and sniffed, not ready for this talk.

"I should go," Haymitch said while turning to leave the cubicle.

"It was supposed to be me."

He stopped his hand mid-stride when she spoke. His back was to her, but he could hear the tears in her voice, the struggle to confess in every word.

"When I got pregnant, I tried to hide it," she started, and he turned to sit on the bed again. "If Snow knew, he'd have forced me to abort it. Everybody knows the procedure with escorts …" He nodded, because he knew. A pregnant prostitute didn't make money, so they wouldn't have any pregnant escorts, one way or another.

"But then there was you." She finally met his eyes, her brown orbs even lighter with tears. "And the Capitol loved us: the Victors Sweethearts." Her smile was weak, and so was his grin. When they had dated, more than ten years ago, they had indeed been a famous couple among the Capitol citizens, who loved any kind of affection between their victors. Lara was beautiful and Haymitch was strong; why not admire them?

"Snow never approved of couples between victors. He knew how much influence we had over the people. And what would happen if it became common knowledge that he used victors as prostitutes? It'd be a disaster for him … but a worse disaster would be if that prostitute was being forced to work when she was pregnant." Haymitch felt an urge to hug her, to console her like he would have done twelve years ago. "But to top that …" She couldn't maintain eye contact as the words came out. "What would they do if they knew the child of the Capitol's sweethearts was that baby?"

Deep down, he knew. Lara was an excellent liar and a skillful manipulator. He just wanted so bad to believe her when she promised Reynard wasn't his son.

"I'm the worst kind of human being. I lied to every single person I loved to protect him." Her breathing was short and the sobs had started to pause her phrases. "I lied to my family, to the Capitol—" She held his glance for a moment—"to you. Everything I did was to save him, but …" She tried to calm down, taking a shuddering breath. "But Snow knew and planned to kill him all along. I lost the game I had started. Please no," she added when he tried to touch her shoulder. "Please, don't touch me. I—I don't deserve it."

Haymitch had rehearsed different ends for this conversation, but none of them involved knowing Reynard was his son.

"What was he like?"

His question startled her and she looked up perplexed. She was expecting curses, even violence, but not a casual question like that. Did he understand what had happened? How she lied to him and how she ended up watching her—their—son die for nothing?

Haymitch continued, "What was Reynard like, I mean. Like … what was his favorite color?"

Lara skeptically studied him, her tears dying in her throat. Did he really want to do that?

"Blue," she responded calmly, still wary and ready for a harsh reaction. Haymitch nodded and smiled to himself.

"Johanna said he liked horses. Did you teach him how to ride?"

"My father did." Lara worked most of the year; she did everything she could with her son, but most of his life escaped through her fingers while she slept with Capitol socialites.

"He was going to be tall." Haymitch gulped down the last bit of his comment, _like me_. "He'd have been a great farmer in Ten."

Lara agreed with a shy nod. It was the first time she was actually _talking_ about Reynard since he had died. A son that had been cruelly taken from her in different ways since he was conceived.

"You …" Haymitch needed to say something, anything that could have at least a chance to amend whatever had become of that relationship. "You did what you thought necessary to survive. I don't—I don't blame you."

She couldn't even disguise her snort. It didn't matter what Haymitch thought; she knew she was the guilty one in this story.

"He liked to paint wooden horses," she said when Haymitch once again stood up to leave. "He had a beautiful collection. Johanna gave him the first, but he never stopped asking for more."

Haymitch touched the doorknob, a faint smile on his thin lips. "Did he ever ask about me?"

Lara was glad he couldn't see her hurtful expression. Reynard had a present grandfather and a rich mother that gave him all the toys he wanted. Whatever doubts about his father would probably arise in his teenage years—years he didn't have a chance to live.

"I'm sorry," Lara answered to his back, one uninvited tear running down her cheek.

"Nah; better this way." He turned to face her again. "I'm not a very good model." His heart had been broken many times in his life, a common trait in a victor's history. When he had won the second Quarter Quell, Snow had summoned him to work with the Escorts. At his refusal, Haymitch had lost his fiancée and family, all brutally killed under the president's orders. He had found comfort in alcohol, but it had changed once he met Lara; the easy-smile, beautiful and loving victor from Ten. Their relationship had been a publicity boom for the victors and a different way out for him. During those first years, he foolishly thought they would have something real together. When she wordlessly disappeared, he could never have guessed the reason, and now he respected her for her decisions, even though they ended with Reynard's death.

Now, as he watched the woman he loved sitting in a simple chair, with her beauty vanishing from sorrow and time, he could remember exactly why he had loved her and why he had respected her for disappearing from his life. Her thin braids were threaded with shiny white hairs; her face was marked with the lack of life that only a childless mother could show.

"Do you want me to stay?" His hand was on the doorknob, but he needed to ask. He wanted to stay; he wanted to be part of her life again, principally now that they had a chance of restarting this damaged country.

He also knew Lara's weakness—she only knew one kind of comfort.

She didn't say anything when he locked the door. She didn't respond when he sat back on the bed, his arms helping her to lie next to him. Lara didn't open her eyes as he delicately undid her braids, running his hand through her hair and massaging her back. When his lips touched hers, she let him set the pace, first unsure of meeting his mouth after such a long time, but then the familiar feelings rose in her mind and body.

The problem was, no matter where she looked, Lara would never find what she needed. She had lost her chance at happiness long ago, being corrupted by a system that consumed all her energy and soul. What she really needed, what she really sought, was to fill the emptiness in her heart that started the day her name was pulled in the reaping, growing larger in her arena and years at the Capitol.

Haymitch couldn't give that to her.

She dug her ragged nails along his back, knowing the volatile sensation of carnal pleasure couldn't supplant her needs. She wanted to comfort Haymitch, though, and this was the only way she knew how to do it.

But her real task was another; it was to change the world that created her, to give a chance to a girl somewhere in a poor district to have her own desires fulfilled.

* * *

Coin sat at her desk with piles of documents lining up, one of them exclusively of medical procedures. She was gingerly reading them when the door opened.

"Miss Nelore is here, President," said a guard that led Lara inside the office after Coin had nodded.

"Take a seat," Coin pointed to the only empty chair in the room. Her office was extremely practical and unadorned, much like everything else in that district. It was four times the size of Lara's room, which was a small relief to the victor.

"I always liked your idea; to expose the Escorts, I mean."

Lara squinted her eyes at her. Coin had publicly expressed her disapproval to Lara's plans many times.

"But it needed to be worked, forged. Just exposing the prostitutes wouldn't be enough." Alma Coin was idly playing with a pencil, running the object between her fingers. Lara noted the pencil was pointless, a precaution that if it fell, the graphite would be spared—another thing that showed District Thirteen's care with waste.

Lara didn't respond, so Coin continued. "Escort Victors were never a big secret in the Capitol, or even in some districts. Victors disappeared for months in the Capitol and returned to the districts as shells of themselves, not to mention occasionally getting pregnant." Lara adjusted her position on her chair, visibly uncomfortable with the conversation.

"What's your point?" she finally said.

"We're very alike, Lara. During those years of exchanging information, I've noticed we have a tendency to act in the same way. We move heaven and earth to get what we want, manipulating whoever is necessary to do so. Like when you found out about Samite being an informant. You not only kept the woman under your watch, you also manipulated the data she would give to Snow. Not to mention you lied to other victors about not knowing it. But you were right at the end; Samite was a great informant for our team. Though you had to lie to all the others, didn't you? And you also had to ignore the fact that Snow had her nieces under his aim, right?"

"Your angle, Coin." Lara was impatient. She didn't need that woman to remind her of her mistakes.

"Your story is very inspiring. You see, when we searched the Capitol's database on the victors, we found out about Reynard's paternity. Not that I really care about what you do with your life, but you chose to keep it in the shadows to save—"

"Cut the crap."

"All right …" Coin rested her pencil on the table. "I think you were wrong; exposing Reynard as a victor's child would have been something positive for the rebellion. Thirteen wasn't ready by then and we didn't even know you. But now we have a better scenario for this political maneuver."

Lara wasn't quite following the plan, the memories of Reynard blurring her thoughts.

"If we exposed Snow as the head of a prostitution program of beloved victors, we could stain his image in a way we could get more support in the Capitol. But if we exposed him as the mentor of a program that involved the most loved couple's child, that would lend us support from even harsh districts, like One and Two."

It took a few seconds, but Lara fully understood it. Her laugh was loud and Coin watched her silently, the victor even letting a few tears escape in her guffaw.

"You're completely out of your mind if you think someone like Katniss Everdeen would agree to such a plan. Their marriage was arranged, President. They are still getting to know each other, and you think they want to have kids? No way."

"That's not my plan, Lara."

"So what? Lie that Katniss is pregnant to conquer some votes? Manipulate a nation under a seventeen-year-old's lead?" Lara had to control another fit of laughter when Coin smiled at her.

"That's the difference between us, Ms. Nelore." Coin's voice was cold and imposing, as if her final card was going to turn the events. "You manipulate with lies, I'd rather use the truth."

"They're children, Coin. You can't—"

The door opened behind them and two guards entered the room. Lara felt the hostility in the air and stood up, turning to face the armed pair.

"After all these years, Lara, you should know I get what I want."

Lara stepped back to the wall, but there was no other exit to the office. "I'm the one that would spoil your plan and warn everyone. So you're taking me out of the picture," Lara said more to herself. The guards walked at her direction, but Coin signaled for them to stop. "It's not going to work, Coin. I won't let it happen, and they are not that stupid."

"Oh, Lara." Coin grabbed a few papers from her desk and shoved them so Lara could read the labels. They were medical reports, and the names Mellark, K. and Mellark, P. could be read. "You'd be surprised at how stupid young victors can be." Alma turned for the guards, giving the final order. "Take her."

Lara's eyes focused on the papers when the guards handcuffed her.

If a woman like Coin was going to be the new leader of Panem, would they be exchanging one monster for another?

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay … enough of plot twists, right? Next chapter will develop this new idea: Coin forcing Katniss and Peeta into a completely insane plan.

If anyone out there plays "The Last of Us" and noticed a small parallel, please know it was a hundred percent intentional.

Thanks for reading!

Follow me on tumblr for updates: _**sagacious-owl**_

Special cookies and thanks for my amazing betas: **batgirl8968, ****wandofhawthorn**and **honeylime**.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Waking up was getting harder each new morning—if one could believe it was morning in that hole. Katniss wanted to ignore the buzzing alarm and spend her morning in her cozy bed, but when the reason why her bed was cozy left her side, she lazily opened her eyes.

"Forget the schedule," she mumbled sleepily as she glanced up, her tangled curls covering her face. "Come back here …" Her hand darted to Peeta's waist, pulling him back to bed. He landed heavily next to her, his chuckle coming out in a huff.

"For someone so tired, you have quite a grip," he whispered into her ear, caressing the arm still firmly around his waist. She cracked a smile, but it was tiny and brief.

"I don't want to go to propos meetings …" Katniss nudged her nose against his neck while he pulled her closer. "I don't want to get near a camera …"

"Didn't you hear?" Peeta's voice was husky from sleep and carried with a slight trace of hope— a sign of his persuading attempt. "They are going to film it outside—on the surface. We can even ask about going to the woods."

"Really?" Her eyes shined with excitement, but it was fleeting. Peeta noticed how her gray eyes lost their glint, his own lips turning into a thin line. He glanced at the clock next to their bed and kissed her hair.

"We'll be home soon, okay?" he said softly. Her chest rose and fell slowly next to him, and he tightened his arms around her. "They are safe, Katniss. And we're safe here, too."

With her hand on his belly, she traced random circles on his light blond hairs down his abdomen.

"Prim must be devastated," she breathed out. He held her quietly, purposefully ignoring District Thirteen's exigent schedule rules.

"Do you think your family misses you?" Her question surprised him. Peeta wondered if he was a bad person for being more preoccupied with Prim and Mrs. Everdeen than with his parents and brothers.

"My dad probably does."

Katniss felt the sadness in his voice and bit her lip. She knew Peeta's family was complicated, principally his mother, whose worst disappointment now was probably the loss of Peeta's money and not his life. Her chest heated with anger at the thought of that woman.

"I'm just relieved that we're safe; that you're safe," he continued, oblivious to her thoughts. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

The anger left her body with the same intensity it appeared, her chest now warm with tenderness. She couldn't find the courage to say the same thing back to him, instead burying her nose deeper in the space between his neck and shoulder.

"I'm right here," she said softly. He chuckled, the vibration reverberating through her body, making the warmth in her chest rush to her legs and arms.

"Yes you are." He pulled her on top of him, locking his now wide-awake eyes with her slightly closed ones. "And you're not going anywhere. Not without me."

The kiss was soft, but it didn't help with the increasing heat in her body.

The alarm sounded once more, and they groaned in unison. Katniss tried to argue but surrendered when Peeta coaxed her with kisses to wake up. She knew Coin would make a scene if they were late to the morning meeting.

"We need to have breakfast before the meeting," Peeta said while he tied the waistband of his gray pants that would match his gray shirt—everything was gray in that district. Though he didn't mind how the cloth fit perfectly to Katniss' body, his eyes searching her form as she pulled her own pair on. She would soon be eighteen, and with her eating habits since their Games, her curves were expanding in the most beautiful, delicate and sensual way. He cleared his throat and tied his pants tighter.

"I'm not really hungry," Katniss responded as her braid took form under her fingers.

Peeta hugged her from behind, caressing her waist and belly.

"I can try to see if they have eggs in the kitchen. I could steal one for you," he mumbled while tracing kisses on her cheek.

She smiled; eggs sounded great.

* * *

It had been a week.

Johanna wasn't nervous about the fact that Lara didn't show up to a propos meeting, though it had been a week since her last appearance. Back in the Capitol, not seeing Lara for days hadn't been something to worry about, but here in Thirteen? Where would she go?

She glanced around the room as the other victors started to enter. Johanna noticed that Katniss and Peeta were still missing, but they at least had a reason to stay inside their rooms, while Lara was alone. She made sure to lock eyes with Coin as she exited the meeting room, heading to the floor where Lara's compartment was.

The first month in Thirteen wasn't exactly what the District Seven's victor had been expecting. Being away from the Capitol was a relief, but her heart was heavy with doubts and troubles. Lara had been mostly ignoring her, which Johanna took as part of her grieving—and as long as she was ignoring Haymitch too, Johanna could handle it.

The elevator opened silently, and she headed to Lara's room with increasing anxiety. When she was about to knock, the door opened and revealed one person inside the small room.

Johanna frowned at the guard, noticing he was carrying a box. "What are you doing?" she asked bitterly.

The tall guard looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, a clear sign that he didn't need to respond to Johanna. She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. "Where's the occupant of this room? I just need to—"

"This compartment has been reassigned," he answered dryly. Johanna's frowning turned into a deep scowl.

"But Lara Nelore is in this room."

"President's order." Feeling he had nothing else to say, the guard left with his single box tucked under his arm. He made sure the door was locked and didn't look back at Johanna as he walked towards the elevator.

Johanna's heart beat faster—something was up, and she would find out what.

* * *

The room smelled like chlorine and dry leaves. That was the closest to fresh air one could get in Thirteen. Samite rested her head on the cold wall, waiting patiently as the sequence of binary code was decoded on the tiny screen in front of her.

_"How far do we need to get?"_ Her message flashed in a confirmation it was received.

_"Five mile radius. The coordinates follow next."_

She nodded her head in apprehension as she noted down the numbers.

_"The couple has to be there or no deal."_

Anger bubbled in her chest over her fear. She knew what "no deal" meant—her nieces depended on that.

Static sound filled the small space of the forgotten room. Samite took a deep breath and muffled a sob, dismantling the complex Capitol device.

Everything had a reason.

* * *

The food on her tray made her stomach turn—Peeta hadn't been able to get the eggs. Katniss thought it was frustrating that even the food was colorless in Thirteen.

She pushed her tray filled with the beige mass towards Peeta and restricted her breakfast to a single water glass and a couple of pills. Peeta frowned at seeing her skipping the meal, but decided not to push it. He accepted the extra portion of what was supposed to be oatmeal and watched while Katniss gulped down her pills.

"Do you know what they're giving you?" he asked between two spoonfuls, the silence of the dinner hall allowing him to speak quietly—they were late for breakfast, and most of the residents were already working.

"I don't think I care anymore," she responded, resting the empty glass on the table. After all she had consumed during the season at the Capitol and the endless exams she was taking in Thirteen, she honestly didn't care.

"The food is not so bad, you know?"

Katniss rolled her eyes at Peeta's attempt to look nonchalant while trying to take care of her. She eyed the food and grimaced—definitely no.

When they finally made it to the meeting room, Coin was in the middle of a speech. She shot the couple an annoyed look, which Katniss responded to with a prompt scowl. The smile Coin offered back was almost imperceptive.

The council was discussing the details of the next shooting. Katniss had barely taken a seat when she learned they'd be filming the next day.

"Tomorrow?" she asked curiously while the commander named Boggs and Samite discussed the topic.

"Yes." Samite glanced back at her and focused on Boggs again. "The sooner we make the propos, the better. We already have a filming crew and the set-up. There's no reason to wait another day."

The commander seemed to want to argue, but Coin, who was quietly exchanging a conversation with Haymitch, spoke aloud as if to confirm Samite's opinion. "Tomorrow is a good day for shooting. And we need to film the propos with all the victors first to focus on our special film." She smiled briefly at Katniss and Peeta's direction. Peeta wanted to ask, but part of him knew that if he inquired about this "special propos", Katniss and Coin would end up arguing.

"And how are we going to film with all the victors without Mason and Nelore?" Haymitch flushed in a mix of distress and anger, results of his earlier chat with Coin.

"As we already discussed, Mr. Abernathy," the President started, obviously irritated with Haymitch's comment. "Miss Nelore chose not to be part of this film, and if Miss Mason wanted to be part of it, why isn't she here?"

Katniss also joined the discussion. "I won't do it if they're not in it." Her voice shushed the blabbering room, and Samite protested before Coin.

"That's not an option," the redheaded said hurriedly, though she composed herself before continuing. "Katniss, you need to go. You're the face people want to see."

"She's right," completed Coin. "You don't have an option."

Katniss' face reddened with anger, and Peeta wondered if he should say something; his wife seemed to be stressed all of a sudden. She had seemed fine this morning.

"I won't do it without Johanna or Lara," Katniss reaffirmed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"We can arrange that," Samite offered in a pleading tone, tuning her head to Coin.

Alma's lip were tightly pursed as she nodded.

* * *

Johanna confirmed her suspicion when she saw the guards in front of the medical ward. The few times she had been there for exams, there hadn't been any guards. The question was: were they trying to keep the curious out or someone else in?

From the far corner, she observed the guards and the staff passing through the doors. Anyone dressed in white was allowed without further questions, though the few gray-suited ones had to exchange a couple of words with the guards to enter. With a fresh idea, Johanna left the hall to try to find the source of the white garments.

District Thirteen being organized the way it was, she could find a map and locate the laundry room. Concealing her presence, she changed into white clothes behind a line of pipes—she quickly wondered if it would be a good spot to hide from the tedious meetings.

With her head down and hand in her coat's pockets, she marched steadily to the medical ward.

The plan would be a complete failure in any other district, with Johanna's face nationally known. But in Thirteen, where the Games were more of a legend than entertainment, she found herself inside the guarded doors. Making quick decisions and avoiding eye contact, she searched for any kind of office where she'd find patients' files. She briefly thought it was strange to act like Thirteen was the enemy, but Johanna never trusted Coin—and that woman obviously never liked Lara.

Walking calmly to a countertop island in the middle of the reception room, she scanned a few records spread over the counter.

One of them was unnamed.

Her heart sank as the number of the room in the record led her to the psychiatric area. The hall was silent and the doors unlocked as she attempted to open them. Most were empty, and one had an old man sleeping. The last room in the hall—when Johanna's hope was already fading—resisted to her push, and she swallowed dryly.

"They are keeping her locked," a low voice called behind her. When Johanna turned, she saw a short blond woman with rosy cheeks smiling at her. "Violent patients should remain locked until doctor's orders. She can't receive any visits." The nurse held different folders near her chest, and Johanna wondered if she was responsible for the corridor.

Johanna took a deep breath and locked her brown eyes with the curious green orbs staring back at her; there was no point in hiding anymore.

"I really need to talk to her," she said.

The nurse studied Johanna carefully, and her eyes widened when she finally recognized the victor. Her folders fell to the impeccable clean floor, and she took a hurried step away from Johanna.

"Please, wait!" Johanna begged, one hand extended in the woman's direction. "I'm …" She stumbled a little with her words, unsure of what her next statement could provoke. "I'm her girlfriend, and I really need to talk to Lara."

Indeed, the woman's eyes widened even more, her green irises shining under the fluorescent light. Johanna knew any kind of homosexual behavior in Thirteen wasn't well accepted, considering the district's strict policy of reproduction. They even had an entire area in the hospital exclusively for artificial insemination research.

"Please," Johanna tried again. "Let me talk to her." She watched the nurse's eyes darting between her and the door, fighting against orders and a lover's request.

But before the woman could process anything else, Johanna was over her, one arm firmly pressing the small blonde against the door and the other hand muffling her screams.

"Are the keys in your pocket?" The woman nodded frantically under the painful grasp. "I'm going to lock you in a room and, if you start to scream, you won't leave that room. Do you understand me?" Johanna's voice was icy cold, a contrast to the hot tears streaming the woman's cheeks.

She was inside Lara's room five minutes later, locking the door quietly behind her. When she turned on the lights, dazed eyes stared back at her, but not enough to miss recognition. Johanna rushed to the bed to free Lara from the leather restraints around her wrists and ankles. Lara chuckled as she massaged her angry red joints.

"You didn't kill anyone to get here, did you?" she asked in a dry voice, her humorless chuckle dying in her throat.

"Not exactly." Johanna was first relieved to see Lara apparently unharmed, but still confused about what had happened in the last week. "What did they give you?"

"Morphine." Lara lay back on the bed, shaking her head slightly. "But not enough to knock down someone like me."

Victors—principally escorts—were well known for their use of drugs. Lara had experienced different kind of drugs, including heavy ones. Nowadays, it wasn't just any dose that would knock her out.

Johanna seemed insecure when she sat on Lara's bed, unsure whether to reach for her hand.

"You were missing for a week, and they were cleaning your room. I felt something was wrong, but I wasn't sure if you were just trying to disappear."

Lara closed her eyes, not brave enough to meet Johanna's gaze. Her mind was slightly fogged, and part of her was thankful for that; she didn't want a full functioning mind during that conversation—when Johanna would confront her about her feelings and choices.

Johanna watched as Lara took a deep breath, her face showing more of her age, as if these last weeks in Thirteen had consumed all her energy. Her hair was down, thin auburn strays partially covering her pale cheek.

"I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you."

"Lara—"

"Listen to me." She met Johanna's face with fierce yellowish eyes, but behind them was a request. Johanna closed her mouth and nodded. "I don't know what I did to make you fall for me. But you did, and I used that. I … I used you." Lara shook her head trying to clear her thoughts. "You were one of the few beautiful, innocent souls that I had come across in my life. I gave everything to Reynard, but you … you comforted me." Her sight blurred with silent tears, her heart hurting for her son and for the confession. "And the least I could do was comfort you back, though I never got close to what you gave to me."

Johanna was controlling her tongue not to reply and her hands not to wipe those tears. It stung like hell when Lara cried. Before Reynard, it was a rare event reserved for the quiet, dark moments in the middle of the night.

"I'm broken, Johanna." The words came out from chapped lips, carrying all the sorrow of a shattered heart. "I don't have the slightest chance to ever be normal. The horrors I saw, the horrors I did … the children I corrupted."

Johanna couldn't stay quiet at that. "You were forced to train those victors."

Lara smiled lifelessly. "I _chose_ to win my Games. I chose to kill each of those kids." Her eyes showed a trace of something Johanna had rarely seen before. "I liked winning my Games. Everything that happened later was the consequences."

Lara took a deep breath, preparing herself for one of the most difficult requests she would have to do. "Johanna, please, _please _forget me," she whispered.

"I believe it's my turn to say something." Ignoring Lara's last phrase, Johanna sat closer to her on the bed. "I'm not the innocent woman you sometimes think I am—and I never was. Yes, I fell in love with the beautiful Lara that shined while mounting colorful horses in Capitol parades." They both smiled sadly at this. "But I chose to love a different Lara: the woman that tried everything to save my family. The mentor that introduced me to the escorts in the best possible way. The Lara that manipulated everything and everyone to earn me an easy talent—" she leaned closer to Lara, searching for the older woman's eyes—"the woman that even after a rough client tried to give me pleasure." Johanna raised her head, watching the constant flow of tears wetting Lara's cheeks. "I'm not asking you to love me back. I'm asking you to respect me."

Lara felt the full lips brush her cheek but didn't turn to meet them. It took Johanna an entire minute to realize Lara wasn't going to say anything.

"The nurse said that you hit Coin. Is that why you're being held here?" The change of topic would be good for both of them.

"Yeah," Lara responded absentmindedly. Then, as if it all had just happened, she suddenly remembered the discussion that led to the fight with Coin. "The propos," Lara said in a deep tone. "Did they film it already?"

Johanna shook her head. "They're doing it this week. Why?"

"Katniss …" The name came out in mild panic. "I need to talk to her." At Johanna's inquiring eyebrow, Lara got out the bed. "We've done something terrible to that girl."

* * *

The bright morning light hurt their eyes, making it hard to look up at the endless blue above them. Katniss didn't care though and barely diverted her sight from the sky as they rode the car to the set location, five miles from the exit they used to access the surface. She felt a new sensation of nostalgia when the smells of trees and earth invaded her nose, closing her eyes to feel it better. Katniss hated cameras, but it would all be worth it just for the slight sunburn on her olive skin.

Three vehicles were transporting the entire crew for the shooting, one exclusively for the equipment. Katniss had been emphatic to say she wasn't going to film the propos without all the victors, and early that morning, both Johanna and Lara were at the meeting for the footage's preparation. Lara seemed even more serious and sad than before, but Katniss decided to ignore it—she wasn't having a good morning. Her stomach was in knots as they entered the elevator that led to the surface, and Katniss didn't notice when Coin approached Lara and exchanged two brief, whispered and meaningful words.

"It's done," Coin said and smiled triumphantly while she watched the door closing, separating her from the group of victors.

"We need to get farther away from the main entrance, so the Capitol won't be able to locate it," Samite yelled in order for the driver to hear her. "Here—" she opened a map from her passenger seat so the driver could see. "Follow these coordinates. It's the best area for filming."

Katniss ignored what was happening in the car, eyes fixed on window. She wanted to pass her entire day between the trees and rivers full of life, and if she could just get a bow and arrows …

"I told you it'd be nice." She startled at the proximity of Peeta's voice, lost in her own thoughts. Peeta rested his arms on her shoulders, moving closer to stare at the passing landscape. His cheek brushed hers as he spoke. "Do you think we're going to stay until sunset?"

She sighted and rested her back fully against his chest. "I hope so." Her breath fogged the glass while she turned to plant a peck on his cheek.

Lara watched the scene from the other side of the car's bench. It hurt when Katniss intertwined her fingers with Peeta in an attempt to show affection discreetly. What was waiting for them had nothing to do with discretion.

The filming was running as smoothly as it could be. Nothing could change Haymitch's sour face, Samite's nervous looks at the sky or Johanna's deep scowl. Plutarch and Cressida, the ones responsible for the filming along with two camera operators, did the best they could with the interviews and themes so the victors would appear as strong rebels.

It didn't help that Katniss was constantly distracted, looking away at the woods and ignoring most of the advice from the crew.

"We need to shoot this again," said Plutarch while looking at his small laptop, his head shaking disapprovingly. "Try to look at the camera this time, Katniss. Talk about your family, but try to look directly to the camera."

Peeta, who was sitting next to Plutarch while Katniss filmed her shot, frowned when Katniss once more ignored the command.

"Katniss," Peeta tried, but she was looking at something in the sky. "We need to film it again, or—"

"What's that?" she asked curiously, pointing to a sequence of black dots painting the blue sky.

"What's what?" Peeta followed her direction and watched what at first looked like birds taking form into something bigger.

Johanna, Beetee, Haymitch and the other victors, who were making their own break from the filming, also shared curious glances at the approaching forms in the sky.

"Do you think …" Haymitch started to ask, but Beetee was faster.

"Hovercrafts. Military."

Katniss was still intrigued by the sight when the others understood what was about to happen. Peeta's strong grasp on her arm and his desperate voice was what brought her back to reality. "It's an attack," he said in a trembling voice, already dragging her to one of the cars.

Samite watched everything unfolding with an eerie calm, her earlier nervousness suddenly vanishing.

"What the fuck? Is that …" Johanna couldn't finish the phrase before they heard the first firing.

One of the aircrafts released a bomb that fell in the general direction of District Thirteen; but it wasn't a simple bomb. When it hit the ground, it didn't explode. Motors activated and the bomb disappeared into the new hole.

"It will get to the underground before exploding," Beetee said when the air seemed frozen in the expectation.

"And when will it—" Johanna stumbled on her own phrase as the ground under them shook, and they lost balance. Peeta's arm was firmly around Katniss' waist as she tried to stand up, but her entire body paralyzed when she looked up.

All the hovercrafts started to drop similar bombs on the same spot the first one had.

In seconds, it was pure chaos.

Katniss didn't know what was more incoherent, her actions or her mind. Beetee was barking orders while Haymitch and Plutarch vehemently protested. Cressida was helping the cameramen run for the car and trying to save the equipment.

She could only focus again when a cold hand landed on her neck.

"You two. With me." Samite had one hand behind Katniss' neck and the other on Peeta's shoulder. "We need to leave; now!" It was hard to listen to her between the noise flowing from the shaking ground and the disturbed nature around them. Packs of birds and different animals could be seen as they also ran from the danger.

Samite didn't have the chance to guide the couple more than two yards before Johanna jumped on her and pushed the four of them to the ground.

"You fucker!" Johanna shouted, her punch landing on Samite's right cheek. "You knew it!" The second blow hit Samite's eye before she could process what had just happened.

Lara and Haymitch pulled Johanna from Samite, almost falling as another explosion occurred.

"There was no other option." Samite spit blood right after speaking. She could handle an angry Johanna.

Suddenly, after a shock wave as strong as the first explosion, the group was hit by silence. The wind, the animals, the explosions … it all stopped for a moment.

Katniss started to hyperventilate. "We need to go," she begged, sinking her nails into Peeta's forearm. "We need to leave now." Her words were slurred, but he understood—he was thinking the same thing.

Mercilessly, the Capitol hovercraft emerged for the once beautiful sky. Curses broke the silence, and Johanna tried to go after Samite again, but Lara held her close. She knew there was nothing they could do now.

Haymitch was the first hit with the tranquilizer on his neck, falling in a lifeless pool next to Lara and Johanna. Lara's eyes widened, but it was her last conscious move as the darts found her exposed arm and Johanna's chest.

Katniss felt when Peeta jumped in a vain attempt to protect her. He landed unconscious on her chest. His body shielded her from the next sequence of darts, giving her a second to look up at the sky.

It was still an endless blue, and the last thing she saw before fainting was the black and white blur of a mockingjay.

* * *

What pulled her out of the blackness were the screams. Terrified, scared and inhuman screams. Katniss gasped at the bright light against her sore eyes, but she didn't care.

Her heart stopped when it finally became clear what was happening.

The person screaming was Peeta.

A desperate plea died in her dry throat before she could speak. Her sight fogged on the white walls, and a warm hand touched her forehead at the same time her limbs felt numb.

* * *

There was no scream this time. Just a massive silence that scared her even more than the screams.

Katniss' mind couldn't fully process her fears as three doctors entered the room. She dizzily looked around to see she was in a sort of hospital, different tubes pressed on her arms. Besides the three stainless white walls, there was a huge mirror covering one entire side of the room.

She couldn't find any strength to ask as the doctors examined and poked her body with different instruments, collecting blood samples and making sure she was comfortable. She wondered if the screams had been just another nightmare when the smell hit her nose.

Blood and roses.

Katniss gagged; the only reason she didn't throw up on the doctors was because her stomach was empty. They handed her a water glass before leaving the room. The smell got stronger and, surely, he appeared at the door, imposing in an impeccable white suit flourished with a salmon tie and a diamond pin.

"Mrs. Mellark." President Snow greeted her with a small nod, calmly walking in the direction of her bed. If it wasn't for the tubes on her skin, she would have been darting away from the moment she _smelled_ him. "I hope you found your accommodations suitable."

_What is happening? Where am I? _

But the most alarming thought was: _where is Peeta?_

"You see—" unaware of her inner turmoil, Snow continued to talk while he walked leisurely around her bed. "I had different plans for you once we've found you. But well, what a surprise." His smile was big and wicked. "I thought we couldn't use you again, but now … now you could be a gold mine, Mrs. Mellark."

She wasn't following his thoughts. Katniss was sure Snow would kill her after she had joined Thirteen and the rebellion. There was no other way he could use her again—she'd rather die than be part of his game.

"We first thought it was a mistake— a common newlywed mistake, I must say. But after checking the exams and, of course, interrogating a few of your … friends—" his eyes buried deeply into hers when he said this last word—"we realized how much you were used by them. It was comical, if not tragic. Well, at least for you."

"Where am I? What's going on?"

"You're in my palace, Mrs. Mellark. You and your companions are my special guests; though I must say they aren't receiving your special treatment. But that's all due to your condition."

"I'm not going to do anything for you."

Genuine confusion flashed in Snow's eyes, but his snake stare was back when he spoke. "I presume you don't know, then."

"Know what?"

Her blood boiled when he chuckled.

"Do you know what is happening, Katniss?" Her name on his mouth sounded like a curse. "Do you know what they did to you and your husband?"

Katniss' pulse accelerated, and the air was suddenly thicker, harder to breathe.

When she didn't answer, Snow pointed to the mirrored wall with his shaved chin. She reluctantly followed his glance. Katniss stared at her reflection, but it started to fade as the mirror dissolved into a glass window.

"Oh my God …" The tears wet her cheeks as she fought against a sob.

Peeta was unconscious, rudely strapped against an inclined metal table that offered a full vision of his body. His bare chest was marked with angry red cuts and purple scars; his limbs had different tones of dark green and black, and his prosthetic was missing, revealing a seeping cut on his thigh. His messy, sweated and bloodstained curls were covering his face, but Katniss knew there would be marks there too: deep, hurtful bruises that would just make her cry harder.

"Please, stop," she begged quietly, turning her eyes away from the glass.

"Never forget." Snow's voice was icy cold, coming from behind her in a tone of superiority. "I make the rules here. You'll do exactly as I say, or your family will pay."

She nodded briefly, desperate for this conversation, this moment, _everything_ to just stop.

Snow listed carefully to her sobs as the wall once more reflected as a mirror. He turned to leave the room, the medical staff anxiously waiting outside the door.

"Oh, I almost forgot." He turned to face her once more, but Katniss refused to look up. "Congratulations, Mrs. Mellark."

"Just go," she bit back, her always-present anger starting to take hurt's place in her heart. Snow didn't stop at a chuckle this time; he laughed heartily and even wiped an amused tear.

"Congratulations on your pregnancy."

Her eyes darted to him as she startled in utter horror. Snow's smile just grew as he watched her silently questioning him, searching for any kind of hope her desperate mind needed.

"You're lying," she heaved in a weak sigh, her hands unconsciously moving to her belly.

"Oh, Katniss. We agreed not to lie to each other a long time ago."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yes, I still owe some explanations. Following Chapter 10's example, I'll explain everything in small paragraphs instead of just writing more useless scenes. What we really want to see is what happens to Katniss and Peeta now, right?

Next chapter: we're back to District 12.

Thanks for reading!

Follow me on tumblr for updates: _**sagacious-owl**_

Special cookies and thanks for my amazing betas: **batgirl8968, ****wandofhawthorn**and **honeylime**.


End file.
